The Bucket List
by TheAvalonian
Summary: Arthur Pendragon's perfectly normal, comfortable life is turned upside-down when he meets Merlin, a layabout artist with easy smiles and well-kept secrets. And when Merlin shares with him his list of daily tasks he's set himself for a year, Arthur finds himself sucked into Merlin's strange little game - and might just end up discovering that life can be more than just comfortable.
1. January

**ooo**  
**PREFACE  
ooo**

**_Sometimes life throws us grand adventures and daring quests for glory. Sometimes life has other plans. And then it's up to you to make the most of it._**

Everyone makes lists. Shopping lists, wish lists, lists of names and addresses and all the things they need to remember to do in the near future.

_Buy eggs, milk, and toothpaste. Get your hair cut. Pay your phone bill. Call mom._ The little things, the everyday chores that help make your own personal little world go round, taking up the time you'd rather spend doing other, more fulfilling things.

But a lot of these more fulfilling things remain vague notions, stored away for some alternate universe or hypothetical future in which you'll miraculously find time to do them.

And the sad truth, of course, is that a lot of people never do find the time. We spend our lives so afraid of dying that we forget to live at all, and so to quell our fears of roads left untraveled, we make bucket lists.

Despite its unromantic name, a bucket list is, at its core, a list of dreams. A plan for a perfect life, a checklist to present at the final gates leading to whatever afterlife you believe in, all boxes hopefully neatly ticked. Your personalised diploma for successfully having completed this particular human experience.

The problem is that most bucket lists are written with the optimistic assumption that you have _time_. Time to save up for that hike in the Himalayas, or for that cruise around the world, or for collecting a coin from every country, or for writing that book.

Ironically, this is why the points on a lot of people's bucket lists never get ticked off at all. Because despite our best laid plans, no one really knows how much time they've got left.

Except sometimes they do. And when a person suddenly doesn't have the luxury of time, suddenly, the idea of a bucket list becomes as concrete and immediate as your list of ingredients for cooking dinner tonight. And with it comes the discovery that a life – however long or short – can be lived to the fullest.

This is a story about making the most of life, whatever deck you've been dealt, and about two very different people discovering just how little effort is needed to turn an ordinary life into an extraordinary one.

**ooo**  
**JANUARY  
ooo**

**Friday, January 15**

Tonight was going to be a disaster, he already knew it. Arthur shared a long-suffering look with his reflection as he straightened the tie Morgana had given him for Christmas, wondering for the hundredth time how the hell she had managed to wrangle him into this.

The art scene just wasn't for him, no matter what his sister said about him needing to expand his horizons. The people were rude and stuck up (not that this was any different from what Arthur was used to, but still - as a general rule, rich people didn't feel like they had something to prove), and the art - if you could even call it that - made Arthur feel like the little boy in The Emperor's New Clothes; wondering why everyone else were oohing and ahhing when there was nothing there to see. Quite frankly, displays like these were mostly just embarrassing for everyone present, and he didn't know why he had to suffer the freak show along with those poor bastards who didn't know any better.

But he would go, of course, because it was Morgana who asked him - and you didn't say no to Morgana. This was an irrefutable fact which Arthur had spent most of his life learning the hard way.

He surveyed his appearance one more time, running his hand through his light hair to give it a more dishevelled look. Couldn't look too posh and put together now, after all; he didn't want to stick out like more of a sore thumb than his designer suit and London accent would already make him do.

He sighed, straightening his tie one more time before stepping away from the mirror - trying not to feel as if he was walking to the gallows.

It was just one evening out with Morgana's weirdo friends, after all, and before he knew it he'd be back home in his flat with a beer and a rerun of tonight's football match, and he could forget any of it ever happened.

**ooo**

The gallery was exactly as dingy and uninviting as he had expected it to be: the white walls were cracked and the light came from sharp, naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling. All around him, artist types that were clearly very busy _trying too hard_ were milling around each other, trying to make themselves seem more important than they really were.

And then there was the actual art – although that wasn't a word he would ever associate with the atrocious creations willingly. Colourless papier-mâché blobs were displayed on marble busts like they were diamonds, and paintings that looked like they were done by children (very disturbed children who were only allowed to paint with blacks and greys, anyway) adorned the walls.

In short, it was Arthur's worst nightmare come to life. How could Morgana ever have thought he would enjoy this?

He stood nursing his drink in the darkest corner he could find, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible - and hoping that he didn't just look like a creeper who'd snuck in for the free alcohol.

Although then again, at least if he got chucked out it'd give him a legitimate reason to go home, and Morgana couldn't even blame him for it.

And speak of the devil.

"This is absolute crap," Morgana exclaimed happily as she approached, high heels clicking against the peeling stone floor. She flashed a blindingly white smile in the direction of the group of disgruntled artists huddled in a protective circle a short distance away. "Isn't it fabulous?"

"We need to work on your definition of 'fabulous,'" Arthur grumbled, raising his eyebrow at her and taking in her outfit – where usually his sister wouldn't be caught dead in anything but the latest off high street, tonight she was sporting jeans and a loose-fitted grey t-shirt with artistic splashes of colour. Clearly she was doing a much better job of blending in than he was. He rolled his eyes. "You can't honestly tell me that you're enjoying this."

Morgana's only response was a tinkering laugh. She reached out a hand and beckoned, and a moment later, a pretty girl appeared by her side as if from nowhere, closely followed by a thin, dark-haired and scruffy-looking man in jeans and a wrinkly t-shirt, whom Arthur immediately wrote off as _one of those artist types_.

This man was exactly the type of person whom Arthur might have expected to find in a place like this. He was pale, tall and skinny, and looked to be about Arthur's age, even though his wry, unimpressed smile made him look much younger. His hair was black and tousled, and a bit of stubble adorned his face. And, like the gallery, he was dressed all in shades of grey and black. He wore dark, tight-fitted jeans and a dark grey t-shirt, covered by a black leather jacket - in fact, his dark purple hi-top trainers were the only bit of colour on his entire person. Except for his eyes, which shone a strikingly clear blue against the bleakness of the room at large.

Taking his eyes off the man, whom Arthur was annoyed to realise seemed to be silently judging him the way Arthur himself had been doing, he instead focused his attention on the girl, giving her as polite of a smile as he could muster. "And who's this, then?" he asked, flashing Morgana a smile, though his eyes held what he hoped was a clear warning. Arthur might not know exactly _who_ this girl was, but it hardly mattered - he knew why Morgana had brought her here, and he was already cursing himself for not realising his sister's intent from the get-go.

Suddenly, her insistence that he come with her to this farce made a lot more sense. He really should have known.

"Oh," Morgana said, oblivious - or more likely pretending to be oblivious - to Arthur's discomfort, "this is my friend Gwen. I have been wanting to introduce you two for ages."

Gwen, Arthur noted, had the grace to blush as she glanced, wide-eyed, between Morgana and Arthur, and two spots of pink appeared high on her dark cheeks. Clearly, she had been no more aware of this obvious set-up than Arthur himself. That immediately made him feel a little bit warmer towards her, and he did his best to make his smile as genuine as possible.

"Pleased to meet you," he said politely, sticking out his hand. The girl - Gwen - shook it, returning his smile bravely. Steeling herself, he'd wager, for the formulaic small talk that would inevitably follow.

"You too," she smiled, cheeks dimpling. "Oh, and I don't think you've met my friend Merlin...?"

For a moment Arthur didn't realise who she was talking about until he remembered that the girl hadn't come over here alone.

The man - _Merlin_, evidently, and what a stupid name - was standing off to the side, pretending to be interested in one of the horrendous paintings (or, Arthur realised with dread, maybe he was genuinely impressed with the monstrosity). He made no indication that he'd heard Gwen speak his name.

"_Merlin_!" Gwen hissed, elbowing the man in the side, and the man yelped and scowled at her. Arthur had to suppress a laugh - well, at least this evening was beginning to get a little more entertaining.

"What is it, _Guinevere_?" Merlin hissed back, narrowing his eyes at Gwen before glancing over and seemingly noticing Arthur for the first time. "Oh, hello. Arthur, right?" he asked, and his tone was so carefully disinterested that Arthur wanted to roll his eyes. But that would be rude, and Arthur had been taught by his father never to be rude to strangers (until he was certain that their acquaintance would in no way be beneficial to him, anyway). So he settled for a tight-lipped smile.

"Pleased to meet you, too," Arthur forced out, even though this time he decidedly wasn't. He stuck out his hand again, more out of habit than anything else, and Merlin eyed it for a second as if Arthur was offering him something vile. But after a moment he seemed to realise that it would be rude to refuse, and grudgingly extracted his own hand from his pocket to shake Arthur's.

His handshake was surprisingly firm, Arthur noted, for someone so pale and wiry. Thankfully, it was also brief.

"So," Morgana said, reaching out a manicured hand to place it on Gwen's arm, effectively steering the conversation back on track. "Gwen here works as an architect, isn't that right?"

Gwen smiled modestly. "Well, I'm actually only working part-time at a small firm right now while I complete my degree. It's nothing, really." She bowed her head, her curly dark hair falling forward with the action. And Arthur had to admit it - Morgana might not have got it totally wrong this time. Too bad he really wasn't looking for anything like that right now.

A disbelieving noise came from Gwen's other side, and Arthur's eyes strayed back to Merlin. "Right, except they always ask for your opinion on their ideas, and want you to bring in suggestions, and use your designs all the time..."

"That was _one_ time," Gwen mumbled, casting her eyes down and looking embarrassed but pleased.

Arthur was, despite himself, a little impressed. Not just by Gwen and her charming modesty, but by Merlin, who was clearly fiercely proud of his friend and not afraid to show it, even after Morgana had directed the focus away from him somewhat rudely.

"And what do you do, Merlin?" Arthur asked - half to spite Morgana and half because he actually found himself a little bit curious.

When Merlin's eyes met his, the disinterest was still there. But it was tinged with just a little bit of amusement; clearly Merlin saw Morgana's plan as clearly as Arthur and Gwen did, but unlike them, he was finding the entire thing funny.

"I'm studying for my Ph.D, actually. Art History. I'm, well, taking a break right now, but yeah." He had a slight lilt to his accent, which Arthur thought might have been Welsh, and he sounded a little defensive for some reason.

Art History. Of course. "So... your work is up there, I assume?" Arthur waved his hand, indicating the room, already wondering which of these horrors could have been created by this man (who, despite his ruffled appearance, had seemed fairly normal).

Merlin's laugh was loud and startling in the suffocating quiet of the gallery, and Arthur found it a surprisingly welcome reprieve. "God no," he said empathetically. "This is all rubbish. I like to think my paintings are at least a little bit more tolerable."

Arthur glanced over at the group of artists, and found that they were all glaring at Merlin angrily. Arthur snorted, and couldn't help himself; he gave them a little salute and they turned away in a huff as if one organism, back into their muttering little circle. Probably plotting their messy and painful deaths, Arthur reckoned.

But what the hell. "I certainly can't imagine it being any worse," he said, and Merlin laughed. The sound echoed around the room, filling it with warmth. Arthur didn't realise how sombre the mood in the gallery had really been up until now.

Next to Merlin, Gwen was looking distinctly uncomfortable, her eyes darting in the direction of the artists, whose mutterings had intensified in volume. Arthur almost felt bad, but he couldn't; this was much closer to having fun than he'd thought was possible tonight.

"Hey, listen," Merlin said after a short, uncomfortable silence, "I'm gonna go outside - do you smoke?"

It took Arthur a moment before he realised that the question was directed at him. "Oh," he said, glancing at Morgana, who was narrowing her eyes at Merlin. Merlin only smiled at her benignly for a moment before turning back to Arthur, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

And Arthur, recognising this for the opportunity it was, grinned. "I don't, actually, but I could use the fresh air, I think. I'll join you."

"Excuse us, ladies," Merlin said smoothly, touching Gwen's shoulder gently before nodding at Arthur. Gwen looked back at Merlin with a disapproving frown, but said nothing. Morgana was fuming.

With a quick, apologetic smile at Gwen (choosing to completely ignore Morgana and her stare of death), Arthur followed Merlin, weaving in and out of the mass of people - and giving the artists themselves a wide berth - until they reached the exit.

Once outside, Arthur leaned against the building, exhaling heavily and watching his breath fog in the frigid January air. "Thanks for the reprieve," Arthur said. "It was getting a bit claustrophobic in there."

Next to him, Merlin leaned back too, his posture slightly slumped. He carefully extracted a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his coat before glancing sideways at Arthur and shrugging - the image of disinterest, but Arthur thought he saw a spark of mischief in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Mostly I just wanted to get away from some of those sculptures. That giant eye thing is going to give me nightmares."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. He watched as Merlin fumbled with the lighter before lighting the cigarette, then lifting it to his mouth and looking at it contemplatively. He didn't seem very inclined to actually smoke it.

"You know, I think you're supposed to actually put it in your mouth and suck on it," Arthur said

Merlin's head snapped towards him, his eyes wide, mouth dropping open. It took Arthur a moment to realise what he'd said, and he felt his own eyes widen, frozen in a sort of catatonic embarrassment.

Merlin stared at Arthur for a moment, and Arthur stared back - and then, just as Arthur was contemplating making a run for it to avoid the awkwardness, Merlin's eyes dropped to the cigarette still extended in front of him and he barked out a laugh as comprehension settled in; Merlin laughed so hard he doubled over, and after a moment Arthur forgot about his complete embarrassment because Merlin was laughing, and it was ridiculous, and then he was laughing as well, bracing himself against the wall for support.

"That-" Merlin managed, still gasping a few minutes later (every time the laughter had begun to subside one of them would catch the other's eye and they'd be set off all over again), "-was probably-" another gasp, "-the best unintentional come-on I have ever heard in my life." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Mind if I use that at parties?"

Arthur's shoulders were still shaking, and he was still grinning as he replied, "Only if I can watch from a distance as you get slapped by every girl in the vicinity."

Merlin opened his mouth as if to reply, then seemed to think better of it as he caught Arthur's eye again. He shook his head, his laughter fading to a curious smile as he studied Arthur for a moment. Then he seemed distracted again by the cigarette, which had been slowly burning away without either of them realising. Merlin flicked it away and reached back into his jacket to get another one.

"So I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that you're not actually a smoker," Arthur remarked, raising an eyebrow as Merlin lit the second cigarette (this time inhaling as he lit it up, the way he was actually supposed to). "Why start now?"

Merlin looked at him through his lashes, taking a drag and then coughing slightly as he exhaled. "Just thought I'd see what all the fuss was about."

He sounded so casual about it, taking another drag and not coughing this time, and Arthur thought he saw a flash of the nonchalant, bored artist type which Merlin had appeared to be when he'd first seen him - but having seen Merlin bent over with laughter, gasping for breath in a completely undignified way, Arthur was pretty sure it was all an act. He wondered if all art students were given a handbook, 'How to Be Hipster' or something equally ridiculous, when they started their course.

That was why Arthur didn't hesitate before letting out a snort and saying, "That is an incredibly stupid reason to start smoking, Merlin. Those things will kill you."

Merlin stayed quiet, leaning against the wall and letting himself exhale the smoke slowly. Arthur winced; maybe he'd misread the situation and the other man was now mortally offended.

But Merlin only shrugged again. "You're as bad as Gwen. I didn't say I was going to _start _smoking. Only that I wanted to try it," he said. And even though the smile he shot Arthur was a little tight, it was a smile nonetheless. Arthur let out a relieved breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in.

"So is it everything you thought it would be?" He asked, finding himself not able to look away from Merlin. He'd never given a thought to smoking himself (it was counterproductive, a pointless indulgence that he had no need for), but as he watched Merlin's lips close around the cigarette he suddenly, inexplicably found himself a tiny bit curious.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Merlin said quietly, still smiling. There was a strange energy in the air at that moment, and Arthur found himself drawn into the movement of Merlin's hand as he lifted the cigarette to his lips again, and the tendrils of smoke curling through the air as he exhaled. It was completely illogical – there should be nothing appealing about watching someone smoke, after all. And yet…

"Oh, there you two are!"

Both men started at Morgana's voice, and turned to see her emerging from the gallery, Gwen trailing behind her.

"Couldn't stand another minute?" Merlin smiled, unceremoniously tossing his half-smoked cigarette and moving to help Gwen put on her coat.

"They kept staring daggers at us after you two left, we thought we'd best head off before we actually became part of the exhibition," Gwen grinned up at him. "'Stuffed Heathens,' they'd call us."

Merlin laughed. "Immortalised as part of that nightmare? I couldn't imagine a worse way to go."

Gwen blanched, and Arthur imagined she was probably picturing how horrible that would be.

"Right, well," she said after a moment, seemingly having gathered her composure, but still shooting Merlin worried looks as though he was going to offer her up to the artists as a tribute, "we should probably go, actually, if we want to catch the tube before it closes."

Merlin's eyes darted to Arthur and Arthur found himself saying, "You don't have to go yet, the night's young. Why don't we head to the pub down the street?"

As he finished speaking, he frowned, because what had happened to his wild desire for this night to be over? And yet… he found himself holding his breath that the others would agree. He suddenly didn't want to go home at all.

Morgana raised an eyebrow, but Arthur ignored her. Gwen looked at Merlin questioningly, and the other man smirked. "You sure you don't want to go home and do... whatever it is you idle rich do with your time?"

"_Merlin_," Gwen hissed. "You're being rude."

But Arthur only rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. "Come along, _stuffed heathens._ Drinks are on me."

**ooo**

Not fifteen minutes later, the four of them had squeezed into a tiny booth at the pub around the corner, and were nursing pints. Well, except for Morgana, who had ordered a scotch.

"I'm never going back to that place," Gwen declared, setting her glass down on the table with such force, it looked as if she was declaring war. "I don't care how many cupcakes you bribe me with, Morgana."

Next to her, Merlin snorted. Arthur shot Morgana a sideways look, amused. So that's how she made her friends agree to go on blind dates with her workaholic half brother they'd never even met. He filed that away to tease her about later.

"Just out of curiosity," Merlin said, a sly tone to his voice that indicated he'd reached the same conclusion as Arthur, "how many cupcakes?"

Gwen caught Arthur's eye for a brief moment, and he was relieved to see she looked amused rather than embarrassed. No hard feelings, then. "More than is probably good for me," she shrugged, lifting her drink to hide her smirk.

Morgana let out a long-suffering breath. "Well, it wasn't my fault that the _art_-" she gave Arthur such a pointed look, there could be no question to anyone present what they were really talking about, "-wasn't as _engaging_ as I thought it was going to be."

An awkward silence descended over the table as Arthur tried and failed to come up with some sarcastic reply that wouldn't offend Gwen. The truth was, she was lovely. Truly. Arthur felt like half a fool for not at least trying to get to know her. But after his relationship with Mithian had fizzled and died in such a truly pathetic fashion a few months back, he just wasn't up for committing to anything romantic right now.

And honestly, he'd been far more interested in getting to know Merlin, who seemed a contradiction in terms and therefore fascinating in a way that no girl had seemed for a while. But Morgana would never understand that; she had been obsessed with finding _the one_ for him since they were teenagers. A fact he privately thought probably said more about her own dysfunctional love life than it did about his.

To his surprise, it was Merlin who broke the heavy silence. "Well, you know what they say. Sometimes a really eye-catching painting is just a splattering of paint on a canvas when you see it up close." When Arthur looked up, he found Merlin looking right at him, eyebrows raised as if in challenge, eyes sparkling with amusement. And Arthur found his own lips quirking up into a smile, knowing that Merlin's thinly veiled insult was meant as a distraction. And it worked. Next to Merlin, Gwen snorted into her pint, and though Morgana let out another sigh, he thought it sounded a little relieved.

"Honestly, I've never been one for art," Arthur shot back easily. "Nor artists. A bunch of stuck up pretentious clowns, the lot of them."

Gwen gasped, but Merlin's smile was wide and brilliant as he easily replied, "Pretentious. Coming from you, that's almost a compliment."

Arthur grinned. "You wouldn't know, it's probably the first you've ever gotten."

Gwen was now looking between them, wide-eyed, seemingly stuck somewhere between second-hand embarrassment and fascination.

Next to Arthur, Morgana was texting, clearly bored with the juvenile turn the conversation had taken.

"Well," Merlin said, eyes never leaving Arthur even as he drained the last of his pint, "I think the next round's on me."

**ooo**

**Sunday, January 31**

"Fuck, my feet are freezing."

Arthur snorted into the phone, scooting down on the sofa until he was lying with his head propped up against the arm rest. "That's your own fault for wearing those ridiculous shoes. Aren't they made of hemp or something?"

"Cotton, actually, organic blend," came the disgruntled reply. Arthur could hear cars in the background and imagined Merlin walking along some busy London street, trying to avoid falling on his ass and being splashed by cars. Both would be funny - but probably not so much if Arthur wasn't there to brush him off or stop his fall, so he rather hoped Merlin was looking where he was walking.

He bit his lip to stop himself actually saying that out loud.

Arthur had only just sat down with a mug of coffee, putting his feet up on his immaculate coffee table because _screw it_, when his phone had rung. He'd been unsurprised to see Merlin's name flash up on the screen, and answered immediately.

Merlin had been making his way home, he'd told him, from some fundraiser Gwen had dragged him to. Arthur had ignored the initial, illogical stab of jealousy he'd felt that no one had invited him (why should they? Gwen hardly knew him, and Merlin, well... they'd hung out a few times, but there was no reason to expect an invitation every time Merlin went out), and instead settled back into the sofa, content to keep Merlin company as he made his way home.

They'd talked about a little of everything, really, and Arthur had quite forgotten about the fact that he actually didn't much like talking on the phone. Somehow, with Merlin, it felt different. Everything felt different with Merlin. It was odd, that.

"You live in a really posh neighbourhood," Merlin said then, apropos nothing.

"What of it?" Arthur said, feeling oddly offended.

"Just that you'd think they had people to actually clear the streets in this weather, even if it is bollocks-o-clock on a Sunday night," Merlin said, and Arthur could hear the smile in his voice.

Arthur frowned. "How would you know whether or not they cleared my street?" he asked, bewildered - only to have his sentence cut off by the buzzer on his door. "Hang on," he said distractedly, moving to get off the sofa. Who could be calling at this hour?

"Because I'm on it. You gonna let me in?"

_Oh._ Arthur couldn't help the grin that spread over his face even as he rolled his eyes. "You better not get my carpets wet, you wanker," he grinned into the phone before hanging up, pressing the button allowing Merlin to enter the building and unlocking his door.

He stood back, feeling strangely light-headed all of a sudden. Usually, unannounced guests would leave him unsettled and even a bit annoyed, but Merlin... Arthur had just been wishing they could have been talking in person, and here he was. He really needed to stop grinning before Merlin got up here, he probably looked like a crazy person.

After only a few more moments there was a knock on the door, and by the time Arthur opened it he had composed himself, showing only the appropriate amount of enthusiasm at having a mate come over (even if the mate in question was the strangest mate he'd ever had). Merlin only smiled brightly at him, despite the fact that he looked like he was half frozen solid, and let himself into the flat, dripping wet and getting slush all over the floor in the small corridor. For some reason Arthur didn't mind at all.

"It's disgustingly cold out there," Merlin said as he removed his soaked coat, and Arthur took it from him without thinking, finding a hanger and taking it to the bathroom so it could dry in the shower cubicle. Merlin toed off his boots and followed Arthur, placing the boots in the shower as well without asking. They grinned at each other for a moment, feeling oddly proud of their little shared accomplishment, and Arthur indicated his head for Merlin to follow him, and led the way into the kitchen.

"Well, you'll have to stay here until your coat dries," he tossed over his shoulder, and Merlin let out a sound of relief.

"Thank god, because if you'd told me to get lost I might have had to egg your windows."

"That's ridiculous. Where would you get eggs?"

"I'd borrow them from your neighbour. And slag you off in the process. So see, you really don't want to mess with me," Merlin smirked, arms outstretched in triumph.

Arthur laughed. "You're a lunatic."

"And you let me into your flat," Merlin quipped, taking the beer Arthur offered him. "Guess we're both mad, then."

They fell into a comfortable silence, sipping their beers and leaning side-by-side against the kitchen counter. And really, Arthur thought, this should feel strange. He hadn't known Merlin for very long at all, and the man was practically a stranger - but there was just something about him, something indefinable, he couldn't put his finger on it.

Merlin just felt like he fit into his life. It was illogical; as far as he knew they came from very different backgrounds and had very little in common. And yet. It felt like they'd always been doing this, this easy companionship that was half bickering and half laughing about ridiculous things that a week ago Arthur never would have given a second thought. Merlin was, in some strange and flowery metaphorical way, like a lightbulb which had been switched on and now illuminated the room of Arthur's life - the room which Arthur hadn't realised had been dim for far too long.

He snorted as he realised that he was seriously comparing his life to an empty room. Merlin was right, they were both insane.

"What?" Merlin smiled, his mouth halfway closed over the head of the bottle. Arthur blinked, transfixed for a moment on the movement. That was strange, too.

"Just you," Arthur shrugged. "Being here." He suddenly felt a little awkward - he didn't quite know how to label this. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

Merlin took a swig of his beer and (thankfully, it was distracting) lowered the bottle. He was quiet for a moment, looking lost in thought - and Arthur was already running through safer topics in his head, ways to save the night from the awkwardness he had just enforced upon it, when Merlin spoke quietly.

"I guess it was just my thing, that I wanted to do today. Come here, I mean."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, surprised by Merlin's serious tone.

Merlin swirled the remainder of his beer around in the bottle, seeming to contemplate his answer. "I have this pact with myself. I want to do one new thing, every day. It doesn't have to be a big thing or anything important, just... if there's something I want to do, then I do it." He shrugged, as though it was no big deal - but Arthur could see that the admission had cost him something. He looked suddenly shy, completely devoid of any of his usual carefully composed cockiness.

"Wow," Arthur said, "that sounds... brilliant, actually."

When Merlin smiled at him this time there was no sarcasm or bravado; it was hesitant, and open. Arthur found he liked it. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Absolutely. It's brave," Arthur said, and watched in fascination as Merlin's ears turned red and his smile widened. He had to remind himself to compliment Merlin more often, if this was how he reacted. As refreshingly abrasive as Merlin had been at first, this more candid side of him was something Arthur realised he wanted to see more of.

He wanted to see more of Merlin. The realisation shouldn't have surprised him - they had, after all, formed a real friendship over a short span of time - and yet it did.

"Wait," Arthur said suddenly, frowning, "was I on your list? Like, 'befriend the most unlikely person at the party,' or something?" He didn't know why, but the thought made his stomach clench unpleasantly.

Merlin smiled, somewhat sheepishly. "No, actually, that day my new thing was..." He paused, studying Arthur for a moment. Seeming to make a decision, he nodded to himself. "Well, see for yourself."

Merlin turned around, bending over to rummage in his backpack and pulled out a small leather diary. He leafed through until he found the correct day, January 15, and Arthur moved to lean over his shoulder to read: _Smoke a cigarette._

"Oh, this explains a lot!" Arthur exclaimed, barking out a surprised laugh. Then he frowned. "What a stupid task to set yourself, though."

Merlin shrugged, turning his head to catch Arthur's eye. "Yeah, it kind of was. Maybe I _should_ actually change it to _Meet Arthur_." Arthur watched as he reached back into his backpack and pulled out a pen – without a lid, of course, because this was _Merlin_ after all – and crossed out _Smoke a cigarette_. Underneath, he wrote, _Meet the biggest prat on the planet._

Arthur felt like he should at least try to act offended at that, but he couldn't help but laugh, inexplicably pleased. "So," he said, still leaning over Merlin's shoulder, "can I see what else you've done?"

To his surprise, Merlin shut the book with a snap, turning his body slightly as if anticipating that Arthur would reach over and try to snatch it out of his hands. "It's mostly been stupid stuff, really," Merlin hedged. "I've been trying to think of better ones. Still got the better part of a year left, after all."

"Oh," Arthur said. He wasn't disappointed, he told himself - Merlin was allowed to keep his secrets. "Well, then, got anything exciting planned?"

Merlin lit up. "You can help me think of things to add to the list! It'll be good to have a sparring partner."

"What about Gwen? Or that friend of yours, Will? Didn't they have good suggestions?"

"Ah. Er," Merlin said, scratching his neck, "I haven't exactly told them I'm doing this."

This caught Arthur by surprise. "Why on earth not?" _And why did you choose to tell me_? he wanted to add.

As if sensing the unspoken question, Merlin's cheeks reddened - and Arthur found himself oddly transfixed for a moment by the way the colour spread over his cheekbones, back towards his ears.

"Dunno," he mumbled. "I guess I just wanted this to be... mine. Something I did for myself."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "But you're telling me about it now." He wasn't sure why he was pushing, why this detail suddenly felt very important.

Merlin grinned. "Please, I hardly know you. It's not the same."

And as he opened the book again and turned to the back pages, Arthur studied his profile for a moment. It had sounded like a brush-off, and some people might have taken it as an insult, but Arthur felt strangely warmed by the words. _It's not the same_.

He smiled, and leaned slightly into Merlin when he turned back to look at the book, trying to convey without speaking that he understood what Merlin meant. And if the way the other man pressed slightly back against him was any indication, Merlin understood.

"So yeah," Merlin said, clearing his throat and pointing to a long list. "These are some of my ideas that don't really need to be on specific days, you know? Some of them are stupid," he hastened to add, sounding almost apologetic about it, "and I might not do all of them. Most days I've just randomly found something to do that I hadn't before... but I just thought I'd start collecting ideas, for days when I can't think of anything."

Arthur ignored Merlin's babbling and scanned the list. He couldn't help but snort at some of the entries - karaoke, really? How cliché was that? - but most of them just seemed so inherently _Merlin_, he felt a sudden, strange urge to just hug the other man. He dismissed that as soon as it came over him though. That was just ridiculous. Sometimes with Merlin, he felt like a five-year-old who'd just found a new playmate.

"Hmm," he said, just to fill the silence, as he let himself read back over the list again, taking in the entries.

"I told you, they're dumb," Merlin said after a few more moments, keeping his head down-turned as though reading the list alongside Arthur, even though his eyes didn't move at all. He looked up in surprise when Arthur grabbed his shoulder.

"These are not dumb, Merlin, they're brilliant," Arthur said honestly. Merlin shot him a grateful smile in return, and Arthur had a strange idea that if he was the one with the list, today's entry might read, _Make Merlin smile_. Now _that _would be dumb, wouldn't it?

"So... which of them should I do tomorrow?" Merlin asked, his eyes turning to scan down the list again.

"You've already done one today?" Arthur asked, feeling a bit put out - he quite had his eyes set on _Teepee a house_.

Merlin laughed. "Why do you think I'm at your place?"

"Wait, you came to my house to tick off a point on your list?" Arthur asked, feeling a bit put out and taking an automatic step away from Merlin.

Merlin turned, his eyes widening. "Oh, no, it wasn't like that. I just meant..." He sighed. "Look. Arthur, this list, I do it because I _want _to. Just because _Go to Arthur's flat _was my new thing to do today doesn't mean that I wouldn't have gone if I'd done something else new today, too. Although," he added slyly, "I might have asked you to meet me at the pub instead and come by tomorrow. You learn to ration your first-time experiences pretty quickly when you're doing this, you know."

"Hm," Arthur said, frowning, but he wasn't really upset. Really, he was just glad that Merlin was here at all - and wasn't that a little pathetic? Whatever, Arthur didn't care.

_Day 1:  
Be a little pathetic._

"Look, I can go if you-" Merlin started, looking resigned, but Arthur cut him off.

"Run a mile," Arthur said quickly.

Merlin stopped mid-sentence, then smiled widely. "Done."

And so it began.

* * *

_**A/N:** Welcome to another monster of a Merthur fic! A fair warning: there will be angst, and sensitive subjects will be explored. Ultimately, what I am hoping to do is to tell a story of two people brought together by chance, who choose to explore this silly little thing called life. Merlin keeps secrets (would he really be Merlin if he didn't?), and those secrets are dark. But the story is not, and my aim isn't to break your hearts and leave you depressed and broken (the series finale already did that, after all)._

_As with Tributes, I'll refrain from stating outright whether or not there will be character death in this story, but you can send me a private message, and I will tell you. And I'll re-iterate: I am not setting out to break your heart, merely to tell what will hopefully be a memorable story. So please read and enjoy, and I'd very much appreciate you taking the time to leave your feedback so I can keep improving my craft._

C_hapter 2 will be posted on or before May 15._


	2. February

**ooo  
FEBRUARY**  
**ooo**

**Monday, February 1**

"Mr. Pendragon?"

Arthur looked up from the progress reports he had been staring at for the past half hour, meeting the eyes of his assistant George, the dullest man on the planet.

"Yes?" Arthur asked cautiously. George never came into his office like this – he was annoyingly _proper_ like that – so whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

George opened his mouth, then closed it. Not for the first time, Arthur was reminded of a fish out of water, all wide eyes awkward angles, flopping around on the ground… and he realised that there was only one person that could make George look like that.

Arthur sighed. "What does he want this time?"

George's eye twitched.

"Fine," Arthur said, rising heavily from his desk. "I'll find out for myself."

He may as well. After all, nothing good ever came of keeping Uther Pendragon waiting.

Arthur walked past George out of his office, through the open space where his employees worked. Several people looked up as he passed but he did not stop to talk, keeping his back straight and his steps even.

Would he ever be able to approach his father without feeling as if he was facing a judge and jury?

"Ah, Arthur," Uther said the moment Arthur entered his office, not looking up from his screen. "I want to speak to you about those last quarterly reports. I believe there are even more cuts to be made."

Arthur sighed and closed the door. This was going to be a long day.

**ooo**

At half five that evening, Arthur clocked out. If he hurried to his car, he knew he could make it home by six, just in time to catch the second half of the Tottenham vs. Southampton game. He'd heat up a portion of the beef casserole he cooked over the weekend, maybe have a beer (that meeting with his father had left him with a bit of a headache), and look over those reports before getting an early night.

Arthur nodded to himself absently, satisfied that his evening was planned out.

That was when his phone buzzed. He looked down to find a text from Merlin:

_So I'm running that mile today. Want to join me?_

Arthur smiled.

**ooo**

An hour later, Arthur was not watching Tottenham destroy Southampton. Instead, he found himself jogging through Regent Park as Merlin puffed beside him, wheezing, "How much further?" every 10 seconds, having Arthur in stitches from laughing.

"You-" Arthur gasped (because of laughter, not because running a mile had been any kind of a hardship for him - he was a footballer, after all!), "-have the worst stamina of anyone I have ever met-" he paused to catch his breath, "-in my entire life." As they stopped, his hands found his knees and he tried to steady his breathing. "And that includes Morgana, who I suspect has her personal assistant picking up her _remote _for her."

Merlin only scowled over the top of his water bottle as his throat worked, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. "My stamina's just fine," he grumbled when he was finally done drinking - and Arthur blamed the adrenaline for the unexpected way those words affected him.

"Right," Arthur said, snatching the water bottle out of Merlin's hand, ignoring the way their fingers brushed (and why had he even noticed that in the first place?). "Just promise me that _Join a track team _isn't going to be an item on your list."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

Later, as they walked back through the park to get to the exit, Merlin bumped his shoulder against Arthur's. "Thanks for coming with me today."

Arthur shrugged. It really hadn't felt like a favour - in fact, now that he thought about it, he'd jumped at the chance to get a break from his usually so comfortable routine. He had been so honoured that Merlin had chosen to share this list experience with him, if only for a little bit, and hadn't wanted to miss out.

"So what's tomorrow?" Arthur asked, trying to sound casual. This was Merlin's list, after all, and even though he'd shared it with Arthur, Arthur didn't want to impose, as fun as today had been.

Merlin was silent for a moment. Then, "You choose."

Arthur could not have held back his grin if he tried. Someone was going to get their house teepeed. He hoped Merlin would let him choose the house.

_Day 2:  
Accidentally join Merlin's strange little game._

**ooo**

**Saturday, February 6**

Arthur had never had this much fun in his life. Since that Monday afternoon in the park, he and Merlin had actually filled a man's yard with toilet paper (he didn't know who he was, apparently some old boss of Merlin's who'd let him off. It'd been worth it though, for the look of delight on Merlin's face) and run away like a pair of 12-year olds, and had eaten 20 Twinkies each (they had completely cleaned out the stock of the tiny supermarket around the corner from Arthur's flat which randomly sold American candy), and on Friday night Merlin had met him in a pub and moaned about still not having done something new (Arthur strongly suspected that Merlin had waited for him to get off work before doing anything), so Arthur had dragged him onto the table for an impromptu strip tease - which, while seemingly a big hit with the female clientele, unsurprisingly got them thrown out on their arses before they'd even unbuckled their trousers.

"Stripping in public and getting tossed out of a pub, that was _two_ new things in a day!" Merlin had exclaimed delightedly as he pulled his shirt back on in the alleyway, and Arthur had roared with laughter before slinging his arm around Merlin's shoulder and taking him to a different pub, not giving himself pause to wonder what on _earth_ had possessed the polite, controlled Arthur Pendragon to start taking his clothes off in public.

Now it was Saturday, and he and Merlin were lying head-to-toe on Arthur's sofa, both too hungover to do much except stare at the TV and occasionally grunt at each other.

Technically, Arthur had told Merlin, he didn't _need_ to do anything new today - Merlin had slept over on Arthur's sofa after their night out, and it'd been the first time he'd done that. But Merlin had argued that this didn't really count, as he'd slept over on other people's sofas before. Arthur had then argued that if they were going get that specific then a lot of the points on Merlin's list would be invalid - like, karaoke, he had said, would basically just be like singing in the shower, which he'd be willing to bet that Merlin had done before - and it might have all escalated into a big argument except they were both too tired to really do much more than shove a bit at each other's feet, and then Arthur might have fallen asleep for a bit.

When he woke up, the sun was beginning to set and Merlin was sitting up on the sofa, putting on his shoes.

"Oh," Merlin said, noticing that Arthur was looking at him. "Sorry, did I wake you? I was just..."

"Going off to do your new thing without me?" Arthur asked. And he hadn't _meant_ it to come out accusatory, really, but his voice was kind of raspy from sleep... and okay, maybe it was a little bit accusatory.

Merlin winced. "I figured you'd want me to leave though, eventually."

Arthur opened his mouth, but his brain caught up to him just in time, and he closed it again. _No, actually, I'd rather you didn't_ was probably not something he should be saying out loud, no matter how groggy and hungover and therefore clearly out of his right mind he could claim to be.

Merlin patted Arthur's leg, and Arthur frowned, staring down where Merlin had touched him. "It's fine, I probably don't have the energy for something wild and exciting. I'll text you on Monday, yeah?"

And before Arthur was able to collect his thoughts enough to respond, Merlin had slipped out of his flat, as though he'd never been there at all.

Swinging his legs over the side of the sofa, wondering vaguely if a shower might make him think more clearly, Arthur noticed a glass of water and pack of paracetamol on the coffee table, which Merlin had clearly put there for him.

Suddenly, his flat felt very empty.

_Day 7:_  
_Consider the merits of getting a flatmate?_  
_Consider asking Merlin to move in?_  
_Wake up next to Merlin._

**ooo**

**Sunday, February 7**

Arthur almost texted Merlin three times on Sunday, but stopped himself, finger hovering over the _Send_ button.

_Hey mate, want to hang out later? x A_

_What's the new thing for today then? Need some suggestions? x A_

_How's it going? x A_

He deleted them all, throwing his phone aside in disgust. After the third time, it actually began to ring as it hit the sofa cushion, and Arthur lunged for it, convinced that Merlin must somehow have developed the magical power of sensing when someone was texting him.

But to his disappointment, it was only Morgana. He briefly considered just not answering - but Morgana _did_ seem to have magical powers, these of detecting when someone was deliberately ignoring her calls, and Arthur was not up for facing her wrath.

"Hey Morgana," he said, putting the phone to his ear.

"Dinner tonight?" Came the crisp reply. Morgana was never one for wasting time with pleasantries.

Arthur sighed. One day without seeing Merlin really wouldn't kill him, he reminded himself - god, he was being pathetic. "Yeah, sure. Your place?"

"No, that little sushi place near your office. I want you to meet Leon."

_Day 8:  
Meet Morgana's new boyfriend_.

Leon turned out to be brilliant. He played football like Arthur himself, he had a solid job - and most importantly, he was the most chilled-out guy Arthur had ever met. He was perfect for Morgana, who tended to get very high-strung and shrill (not that Arthur would _ever_ tell her this to her face - he valued his private parts too much), and Arthur found himself really hoping that this one would stick.

After dinner, Arthur decided to walk home again - it was becoming a bit of a habit. As he walked, he glanced up at the sky. It was an icy cold but clear night, and even through the bright lights of the city, Arthur could make out a few stars.

_Sleep under the stars_, one of the points on Merlin's list read. Arthur thought once again of texting Merlin, or calling him. It had gone 11, and he was very curious if Merlin had done any of the points on his list yet - and if it was one of the ones that Arthur had been looking forward to doing, too.

The rational part of Arthur told him that he really could just do whatever he wanted on his own, or with one of his friends. And he certainly didn't need a weird little one-a-day system.

But... as surprisingly liberating as it was, doing all of these random little things, it turned out that half of the fun was doing them with Merlin.

Arthur still wasn't sure what it was about the other man that had him so... transfixed, for lack of a better word. Really, they had nothing in common. Even after spending the better part of the past week with Merlin, no secret shared past experiences had been revealed.

Merlin had grown up with cats in his house, Arthur had never had pets. Merlin had gone to public school, Arthur had spent most of his youth at boarding or private schools. Merlin was an only child and had been raised by his overprotective mum, while Arthur had been raised by his emotionally stunted, workaholic father, with his half-sister Morgana as his only companion for most of his childhood. And so the list of dissimilarities went on, and they didn't really share any hobbies or interests, either. Except, apparently, for doing random, childish things in the name of _seizing the day_.

And yet... they never lacked for things to talk about. It wasn't just about The List, as exciting as it was to plan their small adventures and carry them out. Arthur just found himself enjoying Merlin's company, it was as simple as that. And really, he had to admit to himself, he couldn't remember feeling like that with anyone before. He loved Morgana to death, but she was his _sister_, so he really had no choice in the matter. His friends were great, but they'd bonded over football and beer and other terribly cliché, impersonal things. And the handful of serious girlfriends he'd had had been fun, and attractive, sure… but that had been it, really.

Vivian had been the daughter of his father's colleague; a spoilt, upper-class girl who only really cared about what Arthur could do for her social status and how he looked on her arm. Sophia had been sweet at first, almost saccharinely so, drawing Arthur in with her wide, innocent eyes... but she'd turned out to be right bitch, much to the surprise of no one but Arthur himself. Mithian, by contrast, had been absolutely lovely, but there had never really been any spark between them. They'd just met, dated, and fizzled out without any great drama or fanfare. One day over dinner she had told him, very calmly, that she thought it was time to end things. And Arthur had, very calmly, agreed, and that had been that. But now Merlin, on the other hand...

Hold on.

Arthur shook his head. It must be the cold, or the wine he'd had at dinner. He was _not_ comparing Merlin to his past girlfriends.

Merlin was a breath of fresh air, someone so different from Arthur's other acquaintances, and he challenged Arthur in ways Arthur had never been challenged before. Merlin was great - a great friend. A great _male_ friend.

Arthur very resolutely did not think about Merlin for the rest of the night, and he did not text him to ask about his stupid list.

**ooo**

**Monday, February 8**

He checked his phone compulsively all day.

When he woke up that morning, Arthur checked his phone - no new messages. He had a quick shower and as he ate his breakfast, he checked his phone again - no new messages.

He checked it again on the tube - one new message, a text from George reminding him of his 10-o'clock with Mr O'Reilly.

He checked it during his 10-o'clock with Mr O'Reilly, too. No new messages.

It was the same at lunch, and all afternoon (he gave up the pretense, in the end, and just put the phone on his desk where he could keep an eye on it).

By the time 5 pm rolled around and Arthur was getting ready to leave for the day, he was beginning to suspect that his phone might be broken. Until it buzzed, and he picked it up eagerly, only to see a text from Morgana.

_Leon asks if you and your mates need a center forward. And yes, I know what that means_, _you sexist pig. Love you -M_

Arthur snorted. Of course she knew what that meant; Morgana was the one who taught him football in the first place, back when he was six and she was eight and their parents had just moved in together. It was, in retrospect, how they'd stopped resenting each other purely on principle and had actually begun to feel like family.

_Tell him yes! We play every other Sat, park by my house, 10am, so don't dump him before then. I'd invite you to play but that would shatter your illusions about my sexist pigishness. x A_

He only had to wait a few seconds for her reply.

_I feel like my whole life has been a lie. Also, this will be easier if I just give him your number. -M_

Arthur put the phone back in his pocket, a smile on his face. He didn't need Merlin, really. His life was great the way it was.

After a moment, his phone buzzed again, and Arthur pulled it out, fully expecting it to be Leon. But it was Merlin.

Damn his heart for jumping into his throat without his permission. It was just _Merlin_. Arthur forced himself to calm down, opening the message as he stepped into the lift.

_Have decided karaoke is totally different from singing in the shower, and therefore counts. u in?_

Arthur caught his reflection in the mirror of the lift door. He was grinning like a maniac.

_When and where_? _x A_

_Day 9:  
Completely embarrass self (and Merlin) by belting out the lyrics to "Walking in Memphis" at shady karaoke bar (+ accidentally reveal the intimate knowledge of said lyrics to Merlin and fellow patrons of shady karaoke bar)._

The day before, Merlin had revealed as they got ready to leave the bar and head their separate ways, he had gone to see a Czech movie about a clockmaker at a small independent theater. It'd been dull, Merlin had said, and had then admitted that he wished Arthur had been there.

Arthur only laughed and told him he wouldn't have wasted his time on such a lame thing anyway. But truthfully, he was pretty sure that if he and Merlin had gone to see it together, it would have been neither lame nor dull.

He didn't really know what to do with that realisation though, so he kept it to himself and said goodnight, turning back to watch Merlin pull his beanie down over his ears and walk in the opposite direction, shoulders hunched against the cold and hands buried deep in his too-large coat.

**ooo**

**Thursday, February 11**

"I have a question," Arthur said a few days later, warming his hands on a mug of coffee and leaning closer to Merlin across the table of the small, bustling cafe they had darted into to escape the suddenly heavy snowfall.

Merlin looked up from his hot chocolate, giving Arthur an inquisitive look. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold and chunks of snow still matted his hair, but his eyes sparkled.

They'd been walking around the city aimlessly that afternoon as snow fell lightly around them, talking about whatever, when Merlin had suddenly bent down and scooped up a large amount of (questionably coloured) snow and hurtled it at Arthur's face before running off into a small park, howling with laughter. This had quickly escalated into a full-blown snowball fight, which had left them both laughing and breathless and shivering with cold; they hadn't even noticed that snow had started to fall more heavily until they realised they could hardly see each other even though they were only ever a few feet apart.

Thus they had ended up here; the owner of the cafe had politely informed them to hang up their soaking coats by the door, and Arthur was hoping to prolong their stay long enough for their clothes to at least marginally dry off.

"I might have an answer if you ever actually ask me," Merlin prompted, kicking Arthur lightly under the table – and then letting his foot rest lightly against Arthur's leg rather than pulling away. Arthur shivered, which was strange, since it was actually very warm in here.

"Your list," Arthur said, gesturing to the diary which was currently laid out on the table in front of them as they reviewed their choices (and Merlin added _Spontaneous snowball fight (as an adult) _under today's date), "I realised the other day... it's mostly small things, isn't it?"

"Your point being?" Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just that, well, don't you want to do something bigger too? Like set foot on all seven continents, or see a yeti, or something?"

Merlin laughed. "You've been reading bucket lists online, haven't you?"

Arthur's cheeks flushed. "Have not," he grumbled – but he totally had. He couldn't help it; doing all of this with Merlin had made him curious about what would be on his own list, if he had on. And he'd looked for inspiration, and noticed that most lists he found involved traveling, or setting big life goals. Merlin's goals seemed to be small, insignificant. He hadn't thought about it before.

"I guess this isn't really a traditional bucket list," Merlin admitted, taking another sip of his cocoa. "It's not like I'm setting myself up for anything big... I just decided it had to be small, doable things. Just to keep my life moving, make sure I didn't miss out on the little things in life. Didn't hold myself back from doing what I wanted to." Merlin raised his eyes to meet Arthur's, but he didn't elaborate.

And Arthur had to admit, that made sense. "So no seeing the Grand Canyon tomorrow then?" Arthur joked.

Merlin snorted. "Not unless you're paying. Not that I want you to," he hastened to add, looking alarmed.

Right. That was probably another reason for the tasks being small. They didn't really talk about it, but Arthur was pretty sure that Merlin didn't have a lot of money. He was an art student on sabbatical, after all – and Arthur could tell after the first five minutes of being in his company that Merlin didn't come from old money like himself. Merlin was far too... free.

"Swimming with dolphins though," Arthur noted, pointing to the list. "Can you even do that here?"

"No, I looked into it," Merlin grumbled. "Apparently you used to be able to, but now they're all wild and up in Scotland. I really wanted to do it though." He moved the pen to cross it off the list, but Arthur stilled his hand with his own. Merlin looked down to their hands in surprise before looking up.

Arthur cleared his throat, removing his hand slowly, ignoring how his fingers tingled. "No, don't. I mean, these are just ideas, right? Maybe the opportunity will magically arise before your year is up."

"Never say never, right?" Merlin asked, so softly that Arthur almost didn't hear him over the noise in the cafe. He was still holding Arthur's gaze.

"Right," Arthur replied, suddenly not sure what they were even talking about.

Merlin smiled, and put a question mark next to _Swimming with dolphins_ before shutting the book and making some comment about the terrible décor of the cafe.

_Day 12:  
Find a way for Merlin to swim with dolphins._

**ooo**

**Wednesday, February 17**

Lunch with Morgana was, Arthur thought, very different from lunch with Merlin. Where Merlin was all fun, open smiles, being the focus of Morgana's attention had always made Arthur feel a little like he was on display. He loved her, but she had a way about her that was just... very intense sometimes. And today was no exception.

"How is your imaginary friend doing?" Morgana smiled wryly as she raised her glass of cremant in a mock salute before taking a sip.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You've met Merlin, Morgana, he can hardly be imaginary." He picked at his carpaccio; it was wonderful as usual, of course, but lunches with Morgana tended to leave him strangely devoid of appetite.

Morgana had no such problem, devouring her stuffed prawns at such a speed, Arthur wondered - not for the first time - how she managed to always look so poised and elegant. "I've met Merlin, yes, but the man you've been spending all your time with hardly sounds like the same person," she shrugged. "Could it be that two unfortunate souls in this country have parents so cruel as to name their child after a silly old wizard with a long white beard?"

"You need to stop watching Disney movies, Morgana," Arthur grumbled, strangely offended on Merlin's behalf.

"My point is, _Arthur_, that the Merlin I know from our brief acquaintance is a shy, albeit charming art student overwhelmed by all that the scary big city has to offer." She paused, seemingly for the sole purpose of raising a carefully plucked eyebrow at him. Morgana always liked her dramatics. "He certainly isn't this wild karaoke-singing, graffiti-painting deviant you've been describing for the past half hour."

"It's not like that," Arthur shook his head, needing for some reason to stick up for Merlin. He tried not to think of it as _protecting his virtue_. "Merlin is... carefree." Was that right though? Arthur suddenly wondered. Merlin was a lot of things: impulsive, adventurous, fun... but carefree? Somehow that didn't feel right. Even though they never talked about it, there was definitely something about Merlin, ghosts in his closet, that Arthur sort of hoped he'd tell him about in his own time.

Some of Arthur's uncertainty must have shown on his face, because Morgana's look turned searching. "Honesty Arthur, what do you really know about him? I know he's Gwen's friend, and I love Gwen to pieces, but he's practically a stranger to you."

"Careful Morgana, I'd almost say you were concerned about me." Now it was Arthur's turn to raise an eyebrow; he'd learned from the best.

"Don't deflect," Morgana waved her fork, prawn and all, and Arthur absently marveled that she managed not to spray any sauce at all. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost say you were..."

She considered Arthur for a long moment and Arthur found himself fidgeting, feeling strangely like Morgana was seeing him more clearly than he'd like. He hated it when she did that.

"What?" He said at last, prickly, wishing she'd stop.

"Nothing," she said at last, shaking her head with a small smile as she (finally) bit into the prawn still hanging from her fork. "Never mind, dear brother. Eat your food."

So he did, trying to ignore the puzzled looks Morgana kept shooting him. She didn't bring up Merlin again though, instead turning the topic of conversation to Uther's upcoming birthday and what they should get him, and Arthur was glad.

He felt, strangely, that he didn't want to discuss Merlin with her - he liked that the stuff he and Merlin did together stayed just between the two of them, safe from Morgana's scrutiny.

**ooo**

**Friday, February 19**

That Friday night, Merlin and Arthur went to The Great Dragon. It was a pub on the other side of town, apparently famous for its many different shots with medieval names and probably unspeakable ingredients.

And Merlin and Arthur were trying all of them.

"This is a bad idea," Arthur grimaced as the bartender – an old, decidedly creepy gentleman whose name tag only read "The Dragon" (and wasn't that just a promising sign of his sanity?) who kept staring at them – put two shots that were apparently called 'Valiants' in front of them. They were green, seaweed-looking things, and if Arthur didn't know better he'd have said they _hissed_ at him. But then he _had_ just had a shot of 'The King's Tears,' and he wouldn't really have been surprised if it'd contained hallucinogenics. "I have football practice in the morning."

"Then go home," Merlin challenged, his words only slightly slurred as he picked up his shot and looked at Arthur expectantly. "Leave me here alone to drink aaalllll these shots by myself. I'm sure creepy bartender guy will take good care of me." He winked at Arthur, and Arthur narrowed his eyes as he picked up his own shot and downed it in one, not even tasting it.

"As if I'd leave you here. That man looks like he'd chop you up in so many pieces they'd never find the body," Arthur snarled. Merlin rolled his eyes but looked oddly cheerful as he downed his own shot – only to be left coughing, and Arthur patted his back sympathetically.

"Didn't know you cared that much," Merlin wheezed out between coughs, and now it was Arthur's turn to roll his eyes.

"I don't. I just find you oddly entertaining," he quipped. "Entertain me, peasant!"

"How drunk _are_ you?" Merlin asked, his eyes narrowed, but he was smiling. "Am I gonna have to carry you home?" They were on their seventh shot – the bar served thirty different kinds. Arthur doubted either of them would be in any position to carry anything by the end of the night, but he thought it better not to talk about that. His hangover was gonna be _epic_. He sent out a silent apology to his future self.

Instead he signalled to the barman again. "Best just make this simple," he said as the man ambled over, twirling an old-looking coin between his fingers and leering at them. "Give us all the remaining kinds of shots. One of each," he added, and held up a hand as Merlin opened his mouth to protest. "The list said you had to _try_ all the different shots, Merlin, not drink it all. Your liver will thank you."

"Fine," Merlin sighed. "But I'm only bending the rules this once, you know."

The barman said nothing during their little exchange, and as he walked away, Arthur thought he caught a whiff of something burning – but it turned out to be the next shot coming their way, which was apparently a 'Dragon Lord.'

He let Merlin have the first sip before trying it himself. "Huh," Arthur said, smacking his lips, "not bad, actually."

"Oh hey," Merlin slurred suddenly, leaning closer to Arthur, and Arthur found himself leaning in, too, until he could feel Merlin's breath on his cheek. "That girl has been eyeing you all night."

"What girl?" Arthur asked stupidly, blinking a few times in confusion until he realised that Merlin was signalling with his eyes.

Arthur turned, following the movement (not at all cottoning on to the fact that Merlin was trying to be subtle), and found himself meeting the eyes of a very pretty blonde. She was sitting with a group of what must be her friends, but even in his drunken state Arthur could see that she had eyes only for him. She gave him a small wave and a smile, biting down on her lip as though she was shy about the whole thing.

"Huh," he said, wondering why that didn't excite him in the least. Usually when he was out with mates, he'd be ditching them in a moment if a pretty girl came along, but tonight... "Come on, we've still got like ten shots to try," Arthur said briskly, elbowing Merlin as he turned back to the bar - ignoring the puzzled look Merlin flashed him. "Well, unless you want to...?" Arthur let the question trail off, his head tilting to indicate the group of girls again.

Merlin's cheeks coloured. Arthur found himself distracted by his ears, which were turning redder by the moment. "Nah," Merlin grinned. "I've been dying to try the 'Poisoned Chalice.' I want to know if it has actual poison in it."

Arthur snorted. "I wouldn't put it past the crazy bartender. We'll drink this one at the same time, yeah?"

_Day 20:_  
_Ignore advances of pretty girl. While single._

By the time they'd made it through all 30 shots, Arthur could hardly see straight. He was pretty sure he'd proclaimed five different shots his absolute favourite (they started to taste better the drunker he got, incidentally), including the 'Excalibur' and the 'Dragon Lord,' but in the end, he was pretty sure the 'Warlock's Staff' was the winner. This had, for some reason, had Merlin in stitches. Arthur _really_ did not see what was so funny about it.

Merlin had been partial to the cryptically titled 'Once and Future,' himself, which seemed to be golden and kind of glow (Arthur did _not_ want to know how the bartender had managed that particular effect. He'd probably poured in the contents of a glow stick or something). He'd also liked the 'Lady of the Lake,' so Arthur had let him have most of that one – he privately thought that this one really _did_ taste like seaweed.

Arthur didn't fully realise the extent of his inebriation until he made to stand up. "Whoooa," he said, eyes wide as he used the bar to steady himself. He still kept tilting forward as if an invisible force was pushing him, and kept almost falling onto Merlin, who was still sitting down and giggling at Arthur's antics.

Merlin looked to be about as drunk as Arthur – and certainly a lot better than he had 20 minutes ago, when the shot of 'Goblin's Gold' had made them both feel rather sick.

"Will you gents be needing a taxi?" A gravelly voice spoke, and both Merlin and Arthur jumped – they hadn't noticed the barman walk over.

"Please," Merlin got out between giggles. "I don't think this one would make it five feet without slipping and breaking his neck."

"Damn snow," Arthur mumbled against Merlin's shoulder, which had suddenly seemed like a great place to rest his head – even if it was a little bony. "I want the summer back."

Merlin patted his head. "Enjoy it while it lasts, summer will come soon enough," he mumbled, his voice close to Arthur's ear. He suddenly sounded a lot more sober, and a little sad.

But Arthur didn't have time to ponder it, because the bartender was asking them questions again, and being generally annoying, because Arthur really was rather comfortable where he was, thank you very much.

**ooo**

They stumbled into Arthur's apartment - Arthur had no idea how they'd managed to make it all the way up there after the cabbie had dropped them off - collapsing in giggles against each other in the darkened hallway.

Arthur grabbed onto Merlin's shirt as he stumbled forward, groaning when Merlin's back hit the wall and Arthur half fell into him. One of Arthur's hands found purchase on the wall next to Merlin's head and he used it to lever himself to an upright position, finding Merlin's eyes in the near darkness.

His laughter died on his lips as Merlin's hand came out to steady him and landed on his hip.

Arthur felt Merlin's breath on his face, and in an instant he felt more sober than he had all night. He couldn't look away from Merlin's eyes if he wanted to, and the sound of their ragged breathing filled his head.

Merlin's hand tightened on his hip.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, feeling both drunk and sober all at once. He wasn't sure what was going on, he felt confused, disoriented - but every part of him that was touching Merlin was suddenly on fire, and his head was spinning with something other than alcohol. He leaned forward-

Only to feel a hand pushing gently against his chest.

"I think I might regret this tomorrow," Merlin whispered, so quiet Arthur wasn't sure he was supposed to hear it, "but... we can't do this, Arthur."

"Why not?" Arthur found himself murmuring, his face so close to Merlin's that he felt his nose brush against the other man's cheek.

Merlin's breath hitched. "A hundred reasons. But let's say it's because we've already done our new thing today." There it was again, that sad tone, and Arthur found that he hated it. He never wanted Merlin to feel sad.

"It's past midnight though," Arthur mumbled, letting Merlin push him back even while still holding onto the front of Merlin's shirt, not completely sure what he wanted but knowing with complete certainty that he _wanted_. "It's a new day."

Merlin sighed. "You're completely wasted, aren't you?"

"So are you," Arthur tried to argue, swaying slightly where he stood. When had the room started spinning?

"Exactly." Merlin still sounded sad. Why was he sad? This night was awesome. Whoa, Arthur was so tired. Merlin looked soft... would he be a nice pillow? "Go to sleep, Arthur, you're rambling," Merlin whispered, and Arthur frowned. Had he said that out loud?

The last thing he remembered was Merlin pushing a giant glass of water into his hand, and then pushing Arthur into bed. He swore he felt the covers being tucked around him, too, but before he could open his eyes again to see if it was really happening, he had drifted off to sleep.

**ooo**

**Saturday, February 20**

When Arthur's alarm clock went off at 9 the next morning (damn football practice), Arthur couldn't remember anything past the 'Aithusa' shot. He did, however, feel oddly disappointed, for no apparent reason.

He groaned loudly, rolling out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom for a quick shower. He was going to need a lot of coffee before being able to do any kind of physical activity today.

The fact that he wasn't completely wrecked though told him that at some point before going to sleep last night, he must have drunk a lot of water. And as he never remembered to do that after a night out...

He edged out of the bathroom and made his way down the hallway - and sure enough, there Merlin was, curled up asleep on the sofa. Arthur smiled, the sight strangely soothing.

Arthur watched Merlin for another moment, then moved into the kitchen. He started making coffee and breakfast as quietly as he could, intending to let Merlin sleep while he went off to practice - they didn't both have to suffer, after all.

But a yawn behind him alerted him to Merlin's presence. "Do I smell bacon?" Merlin asked sleepily, and Arthur could hear the smile in his voice even without turning around.

"The breakfast of _kings_, Merlin," Arthur grinned. "I might not let you have any."

"Oy," Merlin protested, and Arthur turned around – and his retort died on his lips. Because while he was sure that he himself probably didn't look like his best self, Merlin looked like absolute death.

He was pale, and his eyes seemed sunken as he leaned against the doorframe, and though he was smiling he looked beyond exhausted.

"Holy shit," Arthur breathed, breakfast forgotten as he moved towards Merlin automatically, wrapping his hands around the other man's shoulders. "You look like you're gonna keel over."

Merlin huffed out a breath which Arthur thought might have been meant as a laugh. "Yeah, didn't sleep well. Not to insult your sofa or anything."

Arthur shook his head, "you're an idiot, Merlin, I could have slept on the sofa. Or you could have just slept on the bed with me, it's more than big enough."

He ignored the way he felt his cheeks heat up as he said that, because really, this was a very inappropriate time to get awkward.

"Er," Merlin said, looking a little uncomfortable himself – and Arthur might have moved away from him, except he looked so fragile, he couldn't make himself let go. "I'll do that next time."

"Yeah, you will," Arthur said forcefully. "But for now, you are going to go lie down. I'll bring you something to eat, because you need it. And then I'm gonna go to football practice, and when I return-"

"No," Merlin said quickly, raising his head so fast his vision went out of focus for a moment before his eyes found Arthur's. "I want to come with you to practice."

"No way, Merlin, you can hardly stand! I swear, if this is one of the points on your damn list-"

"It's not, okay?" Merlin sounded almost angry; and he might have been if he hadn't been so out of it. "I just don't want to be... I just want to be there." He shrugged, and Arthur sensed that he might need the space (though he was a little perplexed as to what exactly he'd said that had made Merlin annoyed), so he gently removed his hands from Merlin's shoulders.

"Alright," Arthur replied. "That's fine. There are paracetamol in the bathroom if you want..."

But Merlin had already turned to stagger out of the kitchen, grabbing his backpack on the way to the bathroom.

Arthur waited until he heard the shower running, then turned back to prepare breakfast. If Merlin wasn't out in ten minutes he'd check on him – he looked tired enough to fall asleep in there, and he was the type of person who _could_ drown in a shower, Arthur was sure. Or slip and hit his head. God, maybe he shouldn't have let him... Arthur gripped the table top, forcing himself to calm down. This was ridiculous, Merlin was a grown man, and Arthur was pretty sure that if any of his mates saw the way he was fussing over Merlin they'd never let him live it down. Or – he shuddered – his father. What would Uther even think about his unconventional friendship, all the silly things they'd been doing? Arthur didn't want to know.

It vaguely registered somewhere in his brain that it was perhaps a little strange for him to be concerned about what his father would think about one of his friends; and someone he'd only known for a month, at that. But Arthur had come to realise pretty quickly that where Merlin was concerned, everything was a little strange. He certainly wasn't like anyone Arthur had ever met before – but that was decidedly a good thing.

Arthur piled bacon, sausages and eggs high on two plates, carrying them to the little table in the kitchen before making his way to the bathroom. The water was still running, but he couldn't hear any sounds coming from inside. _Oh god_, he thought, feeling panic wash over him for a moment before forcing himself to take a deep breath and knocking on the door. "Merlin, you almost done in there?" he called.

For a moment, there was no reply. Arthur's hand was on the handle, ready to kick down the door if Merlin had locked it when, "Mmmyeah. One sec."

Arthur heard the water turn off, and held his breath as he listened to what must be Merlin coming out of the shower, bare feet slapping against the tiles of the bathroom floor. No crash; Merlin was fine. _Merlin is fine_, he repeated to himself.

When Merlin came out five minutes later he was dressed in different clothes than what he wore last night, and Arthur realised he must have brought it with him, intending to stay over. This didn't bother him, if anything he liked the idea of Merlin assuming that of course he'd be allowed to come back with him after a night out.

Merlin also looked a hell of a lot better than he had before his shower. His eyes were still sunken and he looked tired, but he was a little less pale and his smile seemed more genuine. He also wasn't swaying as much.

"Eat your breakfast," Arthur grumbled, in lieu of saying something embarrassing like _Let me take care of you_. "If you still want to come to the park with me and freeze your ass off in the cold, we're leaving in ten minutes."

"Thanks, Arthur," Merlin said quietly, sitting down opposite him and tucking into his breakfast. And for some reason Arthur felt like he was thanking him for more than just the food.

**ooo**

Merlin did go with Arthur to the park, despite Arthur's continued protests. He flat-out refused to stay behind at the flat by himself, and he also seemed oddly hesitant to go home – not that Arthur pressed much for that option. It was the weekend, and honestly, Arthur wasn't willing to let Merlin go just yet. He didn't know how to explain it, even to himself, but having Merlin there, by his side, it just felt... well, it felt _right_. Like Merlin was the piece of his life's puzzle that had been missing, to get terribly poetic about it all (Arthur blamed the hangover; he could not be held responsible for any wayward thoughts while the alcohol was still buzzing around in his system).

And it wasn't like he didn't want Merlin there with him, even if he'd have felt better knowing that at least one of them got to sleep off The Great Dragon's concoctions.

When they got to the park, Arthur was surprised to see that the only other people there were Leon – and Morgana. They were sitting on the benches next to the football field, and Arthur grimaced at Merlin, dragging him over. "Well, time to meet the family," he muttered needlessly; Merlin had met Morgana before, after all.

"Arthur! We were beginning to think you'd stood us up," Morgana called when she saw him.

"What are you even doing here, Morgana?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure Leon doesn't need a babysitter. No offence, mate," he added, cringing at Leon – he sometimes forgot that not everyone was used to Arthur and Morgana's sibling squabbles.

But Leon only waved his hand, smiling as they walked up to meet them. "We're going out for lunch straight after, this just seemed easier."

When Arthur looked back to Morgana, she was looking at Merlin with a slightly confused expression. "Merlin? I didn't peg you for the football type," she said, but she held out a gloved hand and smiled warmly as Merlin shook it.

Merlin shrugged, shoving his hands back into his pockets (Arthur really had to see about getting the man some gloves). "I'm not really. I just came for the fresh air."

"Merlin and I went out drinking last night, he stayed over," Arthur felt the need to clarify – not really sure why.

Morgana opened her mouth as if to ask a question, looking between Arthur and Merlin (Merlin shuffled his feet next to Arthur; clearly not used to this kind of scrutiny). After a moment, her eyes settled on Arthur again. "Gwen said you never called her," she said mildly, but Arthur heard the underlying accusation in her voice.

Oh shit, _Gwen_. Arthur had completely forgotten about her. He glanced at Merlin, wondering if he knew – and if he might be pissed off, seeing as Gwen was his friend, too – but Merlin was staring down at his shoes, for some reason. Leon just smiled blandly in their general direction.

"Right," Arthur said, feeling distinctly awkward. "Um, tell her I'm sorry?"

For a moment Morgana just frowned at him. Probably trying to work out why he'd let such a lovely girl slip through his fingers (which, honestly, Arthur had to admit was very unlike him. Gwen really had seemed wonderful). Then she turned her attention back to Merlin, a genuine smile sliding back on her face. "Well if you're not going to play, you can keep me company while we wait for the boys to tire of kicking around balls. What do you say?"

Merlin grinned. "Sounds perfect."

And Arthur very decidedly was _not_ jealous of the way Morgana hooked her arm through Merlin's and led him back towards the benches.

Luckily he didn't have to spend too much time before the rest of the guys arrived making awkward small talk with Leon while being distracted by the way Merlin and Morgana were sitting close together, Morgana running her hands over Merlin's in what could either be an innocent attempt to heat up his fingers or some bizarre pre-mating ritual - one never quite knew with Morgana.

Arthur wondered if Leon was bothered at all by the display - he didn't look it, but with a guy as chilled out as Leon seemed to be, one never really knew. Arthur certainly would be, if he was... well, never mind what Arthur would be. He was here to play football.

Percival, Gwaine and Lancelot welcomed Leon with open arms, and he turned out to be an absolutely brilliant center forward. Even in the horrendous conditions (they probably spent more time slipping and sliding on the frosted field that they spent actually playing), Arthur had a great time - and every time he scored a goal, he'd hear Merlin cheer for him in the stands. For some reason, this warmed Arthur more than the actual running around.

After about an hour, they took a break, and Arthur jogged over to Merlin and Morgana to get some water. Merlin smiled brightly at him, but he still looked exhausted - and absolutely frozen under his beanie. He was now wearing Morgan's gloves, Arthur noted with surprise - Morgana never lent anyone anything of hers, and he knew for a fact that these had cost a small fortune (they'd been a Christmas present from him). She must really like him then. Poor Leon.

"Are you having fun?" Merlin asked, his teeth chattering slightly.

"We were, but we're actually done now if you want to go?" Arthur found himself saying. They weren't actually done, they usually played for another hour at least... but Merlin looked so cold, and Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't actually going to leave before Arthur did.

"Great!" Merlin exclaimed with just a little too much enthusiasm, practically jumping off the bench. "Morgana, thank you so much for lending me the gloves, you're a lifesaver," Merlin beamed at her, moving his hands to take them off.

"Please, keep them on," she smiled. "I'm sure Arthur can just give them back to me at some point, can't you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him, am unreadable expression on her face.

"Sure," Arthur shrugged. "Listen, Morgana, could you tell the guys we're off?" He really didn't want them to start asking questions about why he was leaving early - it would feel weird to say _I'm taking Merlin home_, even though that was exactly what he was doing.

"I..." Morgana looked as though she was about to say something, but shut her mouth with a snap, nodding tightly. "Sure. Merlin, it was lovely to see you again. Hopefully we will see much more of each other in the future." For some reason she was looking at Arthur while she said that last part.

"You too, Morgana," Merlin replied. "I'll tell Gwen you said hi."

As they walked off the field, Arthur felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Having a feeling he knew who it was from, he was sure to hide the display from Merlin as he pulled it out.

_I like him. -M_

As Arthur stared at the text, unable to actually make sense of the words (what about Leon?), a second text from Morgana came through:

_Don't screw it up, Arthur._

And Arthur really didn't know what to make of that one, so he put his phone away, frowning at the ground. _Don't screw what up?_ he thought, bewildered. Did Morgana think...

"Morgana is nice," Merlin said, breaking into Arthur's reverie, "I've met her a few times before, but you know. Never really had a chance to speak to her."

"Well then maybe you should date her," Arthur grumbled, still feeling a bit put out at the way Merlin and Morgana had seemed so chummy at the pitch. It had been very distracting.

Merlin sighed. For a moment he was silent, then he murmured, "She's not really my type, you know."

Arthur turned to stare at him, incredulous. Morgana was his sister of course, and therefore someone whose level of attractiveness Arthur generally avoided assessing, but there was no denying that objectively speaking, she was absolutely gorgeous. She was _everybody's_ type (unless they were related to her, Arthur thought with a shudder).

But Merlin didn't elaborate. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "I reckon I should probably go home actually, I'm pretty beat."

"But..." Arthur started. He knew Merlin was tired of course, and on top of the hangover he kind of looked like he was coming down with something. But he realised that he wanted Merlin to stay. Even if it was to sleep the rest of the day away, he wanted Merlin to come back to the flat with him. And he wanted to tell him this - felt a sudden, bizarre urge to just open up about what he actually wanted for once - but he was Arthur, and he was maybe a little bit broken, so instead he said, "what about the list?"

"I think actually cheering on someone at a football match counts for today's new thing, don't you?"

"Remind me to thump you for never having cheered at a football match before when you don't look like you're on the verge of collapsing," Arthur sighed. "Seriously mate, are you sure you won't just..." _come home with me_.

"No, no I should really be heading home," Merlin said. They had reached the edge of the park and Merlin stopped, hoisting his backpack further up on his shoulder. Arthur realised that he'd be heading in the other direction towards the bus stop, and suddenly felt strangely awkward.

Merlin seemed to feel the same way, shuffling his feet a bit and staring down at the ground.

"Well, er, guess I'll see you around then," Arthur said, trying for casual. It came out a little desperate.

Merlin raised his eyes to meet Arthur's. "Morgana says you're a great brother," he said, catching Arthur completely off guard. "She probably wouldn't thank me for telling you, but it's the kind of thing people deserve to hear, you know? I thought you deserved to hear it, anyway."

"I... thank you," Arthur said, unexpectedly moved.

After another moment, Merlin moved suddenly forward, wrapping his arms around Arthur and pressing himself against him, Merlin's head resting briefly against the crook of his neck. But before Arthur could even begin to reciprocate the embrace, Merlin moved back, once again not meeting Arthur's eyes.

"See you around, Arthur. I'll text you, yeah?" Merlin said, and then he was off.

Arthur watched Merlin until he reached the end of the street, but Merlin didn't look back.

What had just happened?

_Day 21:  
Hug Merlin (kind of)._

**ooo**

**Thursday, February 25**

It was Thursday, and Arthur had not heard from Merlin at all.

After the strange parting they'd had on Saturday, Arthur had very deliberately not thought about Merlin. He'd begun to suspect that he had perhaps become just a little too invested in Merlin's list (and by association Merlin himself), and for all he knew Merlin had just had enough of Arthur's meddling, and wanted some time to himself.

Arthur would give him that time. He just hoped that Merlin would eventually want to see him again, and that this wasn't his way of ending their friendship (even though it had practically just started).

He briefly considered the possibility that Morgana might have said something to scare Merlin off. Her cryptic texts still haunted him - and yes, a normal person might have just asked her what she had meant by them, but that was not how one communicated in the Pendragon household.

Arthur had tried - and utterly failed - at not thinking about Merlin for six days. By Tuesday he'd given in and texted Merlin once, two, three times, and even called, but he'd heard nothing back.

On Wednesday Arthur had been ready to call Gwen, but realised to his horror that he hadn't even kept her phone number. He could ask Morgana for it, of course, but then he'd have to explain why he needed it... and he could only imagine what she might make of _that. _Which would be completely off the mark, whatever it was.

Still, Arthur couldn't help it. The last time he had seen Merlin, he'd looked terrible, and for all he knew that stint in the park could have given him hypothermia. Or one of those shots really could have been poisoned. Either way, Arthur was worried; people were so breakable, and Merlin seemed especially so. Arthur didn't want him to break.

He was on the verge of texting Morgana (he might not have to go through Gwen at all, maybe Merlin had said something to her) when his work phone buzzed.

"Mr. Pendragon?" George's nasally voice sounded, "I've got Mr. Pendragon here to see you, Sir."

Text to Morgana forgotten, Arthur's eyes widened and he straightened up in his chair without realising. His _father_ was here? "Er, right, send him in," he spoke into the intercom, closing his eyes and inwardly berating himself for how unprofessional that had sounded.

A moment later, the door to his office swung open and Uther Pendragon strode in. Eyes like flint, they locked on Arthur's in a second, and as always when in the presence of his father, Arthur felt his insides coil. But he would never let that show, of course.

Arthur sat up a little straighter. "Father," he acknowledged.

"Arthur." Uther did not sit down. He never sat down when he came into Arthur's office, preferring instead to loom over Arthur as he did when he was a child.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Uther looked disappointed - but then, he always looked disappointed - as he stared Arthur down. "I looked over your progress reports again, Arthur. They are simply unacceptable."

Arthur sighed. His department had been doing great - they'd hit all their targets and more, and Arthur had personally ensured Christmas bonuses for every member of the team that had brought home the largest order. But of course, it wasn't enough for Uther. Nothing ever was.

"I'm sorry you don't feel satisfied, father, but I assure you everyone has been working to their best ability-"

"I gave you this job believing that you could handle it, Arthur," Uther interrupted, his voice cold. "I wasn't expecting you to let me down."

Arthur resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. This was Uther's way of motivating him to do better, he knew that. It had always been like this, ever since... but despite what everyone said, Arthur knew that Uther only wanted him to do well. Even if his methods were crass, and even if he was probably hurting Arthur more than helping, somewhere inside of his father there was a twisted desire to see his son succeed. To see his son be happy - the problem was that Uther thought he knew exactly what Arthur's happiness looked like, and it was becoming more and more apparent to Arthur that he didn't.

Uther's vision of Arthur's life saw him CEO of Camelot Corp. when he himself retired. It saw him settled down at the age of thirty with a young, beautiful socialite wife (Uther had been the only one disappointed when Arthur had called it quits with Vivian) and a couple of pink, blonde babies to ensure the succession of the Pendragon throne which Uther fancied himself existed.

Uther's vision did not include football in the park, nor the charity work which Arthur was slowly getting Camelot Corp. involved in with Morgana's help. And it did not include friends like Merlin.

At that moment, Arthur realised that he and his father were never going to see eye to eye. And there was a part of him - the small, scared boy so desperate for Uther's love and approval - that was terrified by this. But another part of him revelled in the knowledge that he would never be like his father.

Arthur smiled. "I promise to do better next time, father."

And truly, he could do no better than that. Uther would just have to deal with it. Hopefully, he would be able to.

_Day 26:  
Accept that you are not your father._

**ooo**

Later that night, Arthur's phone rang, an unknown number flashing up on the display. He normally didn't answer unknown calls, but, well... he might just be a tiny bit desperate at this point.

"Hello, Arthur Pendragon speaking." Better keep it formal, he thought, even though he sounded like a tool.

"Um, Arthur?" a vaguely familiar female voice spoke, "it's Gwen. Guinevere Smith. From the art gallery?"

"Oh." Well, this could get awkward. Had Morgana actually given Gwen his number, even after he'd made it pretty clear that he wasn't going to call? Had Gwen found it on her own? Why was she even calling him? Unless... _oh_. "Is it Merlin?" Arthur asked, suddenly a lot more alert. "Is he alright?"

"I... Merlin?" Gwen sounded caught off guard by his tone. "Merlin is..." she hesitated, and Arthur held his breath. Surely nothing could have happened to Merlin in the few short days since Arthur had last seen him? But then why was Gwen calling him now? "No, I mean... yeah, he's fine, Arthur," she finally said, and Arthur let out a relieved breath. "He actually asked me to call. He just wanted you to know that he's out of town. Visiting his mum." Arthur didn't know the girl very well at all, but he thought she sounded a bit tense. Was she mad at Arthur for not calling her?

"But why's he making you call me?" Arthur asked. "Couldn't he just do it himself?"

"Um," Gwen said, "no, because there's no cell reception where his mum lives. So he didn't bother taking his phone with him. Only remembered that he hadn't told you when he was on the train." This all came out very fast.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "But if he didn't have his phone with him, how did he tell you to call me?"

"Um," Gwen said again. Another shuffle. This was the strangest conversation Arthur had ever had - either she was lying to him, or she really held a grudge.

The silence continued, as did the shuffling. "Gwen?" Arthur asked after a moment.

A sigh. "I think he must have found a payphone," she finally said. "Look, I'm only passing on the message, I'm sorry if it's vague." And she really did sound sorry.

"No, thank you," Arthur said. "I appreciate it. I hadn't heard from him in a few days, I have to admit I was a little worried." It was strange, admitting that - but Gwen was Merlin's friend too. He felt slightly kindred, at that moment.

"Right. Well, Arthur, listen, I should-"

"Wait," Arthur said quickly, confused by her dismissiveness but not willing to let go of the one tie he had to Merlin just yet, "do you know when he's coming back to London?"

A pause. "I don't, I'm sorry." A sigh. "He didn't say. But... he said he'd let you know, when he's back."

"Right."

"I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Arthur."

"No, it's fine. Not your fault." Arthur tried to put a smile into his voice, willing her to hear it. "I'm sorry, too... for, you know. Not calling you." He winced. This was why he hated speaking on the phone; awkward things seemed to stumble out of his mouth without his permission.

To his surprise, Gwen let out a breath which sounded suspiciously like laughter. "It's really fine, Arthur. I honestly wasn't expecting you to."

"Oh." _Why not? _Arthur wanted to ask. Had he really been that dismissive of her? He couldn't remember much of that night, to be honest, except for the parts he spent with Merlin.

How was it that all his thoughts these days seemed to revolve around Merlin, anyway?

"Maybe one day you could come to dinner, though. With Merlin there, I mean," Gwen said. "And our friends too of course. Not that you're not a friend - I mean, you're Merlin's friend. That makes you a friend in general."

Arthur grinned. Ah, yes, Gwen rambled, he remembered this now. She really was uncommonly charming. "I'd love to. Maybe when Merlin gets back we can work something out."

Gwen's reply was quiet, a sharp contrast to how she'd just spoken. "Right. Look, Arthur, I really should run, I need to go... do some food shopping."

"Right, okay," Arthur blinked. She might be charming, but Gwen had the worst phone manners of anyone he'd ever met. "Well, goodbye then."

"Goodbye, Arthur." And the line went dead.

Arthur stared at his phone. It read 23:04. "Food shopping?" he mumbled, bewildered.

His life sure had been a lot simpler before he's met Merlin and his weird, awkward friends.


	3. March

**ooo  
MARCH  
ooo**

**Friday, March 5**

If possible, March was even more bitterly cold than February had been. London was practically frozen solid, and Arthur was beginning to forget what anything looked like underneath the layers of frost and snow that had covered the city for months.

March also brought yet another crisis at Pendragon Corp. which demanded Arthur's immediate attention. Pellinore down from Legal had been arrested for embezzlement, and the publicity circus was a nightmare. It wasn't technically Arthur's department, sure, but as his father frequently reminded him, Arthur was heir to the kingdom. Pendragon's mess was his mess to clean up, always.

Reporters, investors, and subsidiaries were desperate for news on how this would affect the company's standing and whether there would be a drop in their stocks and if they expected any more incidents; Arthur hardly had time to eat or sleep.

By the time Friday rolled around, all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a week. Which was why he really didn't appreciate his phone buzzing just when he'd thrown himself face-down onto the sofa. He reached for it with a grunt.

_Hey mate! Football practice tomorrow morning yeah? -Leon_

_Oh, fuck, football_, Arthur remembered, running a hand over his face tiredly_._ It had been two weeks, then, since their last practice session. Two weeks since Arthur and Merlin's drunken night out. Two weeks since Merlin had last spoken to him.

In the first few days after Gwen's phone call, Arthur hadn't thought much about it. She had been distracted and uncomfortable, relaying a message to someone who had basically brushed her off. And while he was a little bothered that Merlin hadn't said anything to him about going to see his mum, at least he'd asked Gwen to let him know.

But when more than a week had passed with no word from Merlin at all, Arthur began to realise that none of it made any _sense_.

Even if Merlin had forgotten his phone and the mobile reception at his mum's house was terrible, wouldn't his mum still have a landline? And if Gwen had somehow gotten a hold of Arthur's number (how had that happened, anyway?), why couldn't she have just passed it on to Merlin rather than call Arthur up herself?

And unless something truly horrible had happened (which he really hoped wasn't the case, of course, but it seemed unlikely), it was odd for Merlin just to leave his entire life in the city to go home on a whim, without any warning. _Without telling me_.

There was only one possible explanation for this: Merlin must be giving him the brush-off. Arthur had raked his brain trying to work out what he could have possibly done or said... maybe something had happened at the bar, or when they'd gone back to his place (he still couldn't completely remember what had happened, but he was almost certain he'd remember... _something_ happening? And besides, it wouldn't have. That was preposterous)? That morning Merlin _had_ seemed very rough around the edges - but he'd wanted to come with Arthur to the park anyway.

And surely Arthur couldn't have managed to screw anything up that bad, bad enough for Merlin to just disappear out of his life as if he'd never been a part of it at all?

Maybe it wasn't any one particular thing, Arthur mused. Maybe it was just _Arthur_. His life, his personality, everything he stood for. He had been so wrapped up in Merlin; the man had walked into his life and seemed to fill up a gap Arthur hadn't even realised was there... but maybe that was all one-sided. Maybe Merlin had found him amusing at first, but then the novelty of their unlikely friendship had worn off, and Arthur had just awkwardly stuck around, clinging, like - ugh, like one of those girlfriends that Arthur had always had to fight tooth and nail to shake off. Maybe Arthur was like those girlfriends. And maybe what had actually happened here was that Merlin had just finally managed to shake him off.

This rejection from Merlin, which was what it seemed to be, hit him harder than any rejection he'd had to endure before. It was like a breakup, but worse, because Arthur had never really been invested enough in any of his relationships to care that much when they fell apart. But now... he had to admit it, he _missed_ Merlin. With everything happening at work, he found himself really craving the distraction which Merlin and his silly games provided, and he'd never actually felt that way before.

It was an uncomfortable realisation, because Arthur knew that this wasn't perhaps completely normal. He wasn't supposed to feel this way about his friends, especially not the ones he'd just met. But there was just something _about_ Merlin; Arthur had felt a real connection to him, and it felt like he had lost something tangible when that connection had been severed.

Arthur let out a long-suffering sigh. So much for not thinking about Merlin. But what could would that do him? Arthur Pendragon was many things, but he did _not_ wallow.

He typed in a quick reply to Leon, before letting himself collapse back down on the sofa:

_I'll be there. x A_

**ooo**

**Saturday, March 6**

Arthur considered it an act of great valiance and willpower that he actually got out of bed the next morning, showered, and left the comfortable warmth of his flat in favour of the frosty, frigid London air.

But it did serve to wake him up a bit more. Despite his better judgement he'd found himself up far later than he should have been, trying to catch up on work he'd let pile up on his desk over the week.

Before Merlin, Arthur hadn't even realised that taking his work home with him and staring at it until late into the night was abnormal. In fact, his father practically encouraged it. And if he was completely honest with himself, it wasn't until Merlin that Arthur had ever wanted to spend his free time, well, being_ free_.

But now that Merlin had seemingly tired of Arthur, he was falling back into old habits. _It's for the best_, he's told himself over and over again, trying to make himself believe it. That life, those games? They weren't for someone like him. He had better, more important things to do.

And he had these Saturday mornings, every other weekend, to spend with his friends; surely that was more than enough leisure time.

Having spent the walk to the park very carefully and meticulously _not_ thinking about Merlin and all the things off his list they could have been doing, Arthur was understandably wrong-footed when he showed up at the park only to find Leon and Morgana there, chatting to Gwen, and…

_Merlin_. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the other man. It was embarrassing, how it felt a little like a punch to the gut, seeing him sitting there. He was wearing his beanie again, and his gloved hands (Morgana's gloves, Arthur noted with a flare of annoyance) were wrapped around a thermos. His cheeks were red from the cold but he was grinning, sharing a joke with the girls while Leon stood off to the side, bouncing on the balls of his feet to keep himself warm.

As though sensing him there, Merlin's eyes snapped up to Arthur's and he stopped mid-sentence for a second as their gaze caught and held. Then he smiled tentatively; an invitation. And, pathetically, Arthur found himself approaching with fast steps.

"Er, I come bearing coffee," Merlin said, holding out the thermos when Arthur came up to the benches. He looked good - a little pale, but that was nothing new. He looked much better than he had when Arthur had last seen him, anyway. But he also looked apprehensive, like he knew Arthur might be angry with him (which he was), and was worried about how he would react (as well he should be).

Arthur scowled, but took the proffered thermos. He'd only had one cup of coffee this morning and could really use another dose of caffeine, that was all. Merlin wasn't forgiven. He tried to convey all of this with his eyes while he took a drink (and, to his further annoyance, it was _good_ - just the right amount of milk, no sugar, just as he liked it. Damn Merlin).

"Hi Arthur," Gwen said tentatively, waving at him. Arthur realised that he'd hardly paid the others any attention, just walked straight over to Merlin and proceeded to glare daggers at him. His cheeks reddened, and he looked away from Merlin quickly.

"Hello, Gwen. I wasn't expecting to see you here," Arthur said, trying for a smile.

"Merlin asked me to come," she shrugged. "And when he said Morgana might be here, well, I couldn't resist."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "You know you're welcome to come by my flat any time, Gwen, I've told you. You don't have to covertly set up these chance meetings with me."

Arthur's eyes shot to Merlin's again, completely without his permission. Merlin was looking back at him, biting his lip, and Arthur realised that this was exactly what Merlin had done. Sought him out at a place he knew Arthur would be, where he couldn't hang up or refuse to see him. Arthur sighed. Well played, Emrys.

"So where have you been, then?" Arthur asked, trying to sound casual about it. Like he'd hardly noticed that Merlin had blown him off for two weeks.

"Didn't Gwen tell you?" Merlin asked, his eyes darting to his friend, who seemed to have mysteriously become distracted by something off in the distance and was acting like she couldn't hear a word they were saying.

"She told me you were visiting your mother and forgot your phone," Arthur said, watching Merlin closely. But Merlin only looked back, his expression calm, inscrutable. "I thought it sounded... unlikely."

Arthur risked a glance at Gwen, but she still sat immovable, her eyes now fixed on a point behind him. Merlin smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm really sorry for not calling you, Arthur, truly," he said. "I just had some stuff to take care of at home. But I'm back now."

It was a peace offering. Whatever Merlin had been off doing, Arthur doubted that he wanted him to know (had he been visiting a girlfriend? Why would he not want Arthur to know about that, though? And... why did the thought that this had been the case make Arthur feel a little sick?), but he was here now. And really, Arthur thought, there was no rational reason for him to be this upset. They were mates; he hardly ever saw Gwaine and Percy outside of football practice these days, why should it be any different with Merlin?

"Right. Well, great then," Arthur tried for a shrug. "Thanks for the coffee."

For a moment he continued to look at Merlin, and Merlin continued to look back. It was strange, and at the same time it wasn't. Arthur let himself smile a little, allowing the tension to dissolve. Merlin smiled back, and somehow, that made Arthur feel much better about the whole situation.

"Right, well, if you boys are quite done flirting, I believe the rest of your friends are here, Arthur," Morgana's cheerful voice rang out, and Arthur started.

"We weren't - what?" Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes at her. Morgana just patted his cheek and pointed; Arthur turned to see Gwaine, Percival and Lancelot all approaching, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

"You're welcome," Morgana said with an annoyingly smug smile, moving to sit down next to Merlin (who suddenly seemed very interested in his borrowed gloves). On Merlin's other side, Gwen looked like she was trying to suppress a grin, still not looking at any of them.

_Flirting_, Arthur thought scornfully even as he moved to greet the guys. _Yeah right_. Morgana was such a sensationalist. It wasn't like he accused her of flirting with her girl friends. Well, except for Morgause, but that had just been creepy. Good thing Morgana got over that rebellious phase and reconsidered her friendships... Arthur had not been sorry to see the backs of Morgause and that guy Cenred she was always hanging around with.

But Arthur was certainly not _flirting_ with Merlin. That was preposterous. Especially not right now, when he was still a little mad at him for blowing him off.

Wait, especially not _ever_.

He put the thought out of his mind as they started the game. At least he tried to; he kept missing the goal though, and fumbled some pathetically easy passes, and by the time they broke for half time, Arthur was extremely frustrated. Merlin was just sitting there, distracting him, trading easy smiles with Gwen and Morgana, and it just felt _wrong_. Merlin couldn't just weave himself in and out of Arthur's life like that, so... _inconsistently_. What game was he playing?

"Merlin, we're going for a walk," Arthur announced without preamble, ignoring the confused looks the guys shot him (and Morgana's smile, as smug as before; what _was_ that all about?) and taking a hold of Merlin's arm as he passed, practically dragging the other man off the bench, not giving him a chance to protest.

"So should we be expecting you back for the second half this time?" Gwaine called after them, sounding amused - but then, Gwaine always sounded amused. Arthur ignored him. He didn't really care if they carried on without him or not, and it'd hardly be a big loss for Leon and Percy's team, the way he'd been playing today.

"Arthur, where are we going?" Merlin asked after a moment, and Arthur realised that he still had a hand on his arm. He let go, a little reluctantly, but didn't answer, just kept walking. To his relief, Merlin kept following him.

When they'd walked far enough away that the football field was no longer visible, Arthur scouted for a bench, and found an unoccupied one down by the stream running through the middle of the park.

It was March, now, and the cold grip of winter was slowly beginning to ease. The ice was melting, setting the water free, but chunks still clung to the banks of the stream, stubbornly resisting the pull of the tide. Arthur watched the water flowing for a moment, waiting for Merlin to sit down beside him. When he did, it was close, closer than they'd ever sat before; he let his knee rest against Arthur's and left it there.

"So I heard about that lawyer at your work," Merlin said after a tense silence. "It was in the news. But… you probably knew that." He trailed off, but Arthur said nothing. He felt a little petty, but he didn't care. After another moment, Merlin sighed heavily, shifting his leg. "I'm sorry I didn't call you, if that's what this is about," he said quietly, sounding almost sad.

Arthur closed his eyes. He felt like a jerk, making a bigger deal about this than it clearly was. "It's... fine, whatever," Arthur said. "I just figured you were busy. It's not like we…" _broke up_, he almost said. He shifted shook his head, to clear it of that ridiculous notion.

When Merlin spoke, it was so quiet Arthur almost didn't hear. "Like we what?" he asked. And he sounded so uncertain, so fragile, that Arthur almost wanted to tell him what he'd been about to say. _Almost_.

"Never mind," Arthur mumbled, shifting on the bench. But when he glanced at Merlin, the other man was staring out over the lake, seemingly lost in thought.

But the silence that followed somehow didn't feel as uncomfortable as it should have. Then, Merlin nudged Arthur's shoulder gently. "Did you miss me, then?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the ground, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Don't be an idiot, Merlin," Arthur said automatically, kicking his foot to get him to stop fidgeting.

"That's not a denial." Merlin kicked back, but Arthur could tell that he was trying to hold in his laughter.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I just thought I deserved an explanation, if you'd decided you were just… sick of me." He'd meant it to sound teasing, to keep the mood light, but as he spoke the words, he found that he really meant them. So what if he and Merlin hadn't known each other for very long? Screw it, they were friends - and Arthur had never spent that much time every day with _anyone_ before.

"You're right. You do deserve an explanation," Merlin said, sighing, his teasing tone gone. "And I…" he paused, and Arthur turned to find Merlin watching him intently, eyes moving back and forth between Arthur's own as though he was thinking hard. He opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning. Then he shrugged. "I wish I could give you one, but I really just needed to go home. To Ealdor," he offered. "Where my mum lives. But I'm back now. And I'm here." He smiled softly, letting his shoulder rest against Arthur's; their sides were practically pressed together. It was kind of nice, Arthur thought, letting himself acknowledge the feeling for a moment.

And he realised that Merlin never talked about himself like this, really. He'd talk about his studies, and his paintings, and his friends. Arthur knew what Merlin liked to eat, that he preferred hot chocolate to coffee, and that he'd always been terrible at sports. But things like these, the _real _things, they hadn't really gotten there yet.

Arthur supposed Merlin didn't really owe him any more details than he was prepared to give freely. In time, he hoped that Merlin would trust him enough to tell him everything. But for now, it was enough.

"I'm glad you're back," he said at last. "It was getting a bit dull around here without you."

Merlin snorted. "I bet. You corporate types, you just don't know how to let loose."

"Oh, you out-of-work artists think you have all the answers, don't you?" He grinned. See, this was nice; this was what Arthur had missed. How _easy_ it was, being with Merlin.

"Maybe between us, we can figure it out," Merlin said softly, looking out towards the lake. Arthur let himself take in Merlin like this, just for a second. Relaxed, smiling, blue eyes shining in the sunlight.

Then, "We should head back to the others." Merlin nodded, catching Arthur's eye again - but neither of them made a move to get up, and after a moment they both broke out into wide grins. "Or we could ditch them and go do something off your list," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow. "You haven't done the Big Issue one yet, right? I'm feeling charitable."

"Oh, good one. I haven't actually done anything fun for a while," Merlin admitted, smiling shyly. "Let's do it."

_Day 35:  
Decide that Merlin might just be your best friend._

**ooo**

**Wednesday, March 10**

"So I'm pretty sure Gwen hates me now," Merlin grimaced, kicking the pavement. He'd been waiting outside Arthur's office on Wednesday, as they were headed straight to Morgana's for dinner. "I thought I should warn you, seeing as she's coming tonight and there's a fair chance she hates you, too."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What did we do to her?" he asked as he started moving down the street, briefly touching his hand to the small of Merlin's back to guide him in the right direction; it was a clear day, fairly warm, and the walk to Morgana's would give them some time to talk.

"Well, we left her with a group of _smelly boys_, in her own words," Merlin rolled his eyes. "I tried to remind her that Morgana had been there too, but she hung up on me before I got that far."

Arthur winced. He and Guinevere really had not got off to a brilliant start, and it seemed to be carrying on that way. He really wouldn't blame her for hating _him_, but Merlin... "Just say I dragged you away against your will. Abducted you. Knife to your throat, whatever you need to do."

"That's very noble of you."

"I do try to live up to my namesake occasionally," Arthur grinned. "You should try the same. You know, do some magic tricks. Rabbits out of hats, that kind of thing."

Merlin laughed. "Sure, I'll get right on that."

"You're a layabout, what else are you going to do with your time?"

"Wow, you're bristly today." Merlin nudged his shoulder - he'd been doing that a lot lately. It was nice though; kind of grounding, Arthur thought, though he'd never admit it out loud.

"Yeah, sorry, it's-" _my father_, Arthur had been about to say. Uther had been on his case more than ever since the Pellinore incident, and if he hadn't had these moments with Merlin to look forward to, Arthur was pretty sure he'd have snapped under the pressure by now.

The only person he'd ever allowed himself to get that close to in the past was Morgana. She was probably the only person in the world who could truly understand what it was like to be the child of Uther Pendragon. But she was family, it didn't count. And sure, Lancelot had been his best friend all through uni, and he'd been on a few benders with Gwaine and Percy that had ended in some pretty epic (and in retrospect embarrassing) bonding sessions... but this was different. It was all just so _different_, and Arthur was still trying to figure out how, and why.

Merlin didn't seem to have the same problem. Arthur admired his carefree nature sometimes, how he was quick to smile and easy with his affections. Maybe that was what drew them together - Merlin was the lightness to Arthur's dark, the chaos to Arthur's order. The one exception to Arthur's every rule.

Arthur smiled, realising that as cheesy as it might sound, it was also true. And he kind of liked it that way.

"Wait, why are you smiling?" Merlin asked. "I thought you were going to share all your rich people problems with me."

"It's white people problems, Merlin."

"That's racist."

Arthur laughed. "Either way, don't belittle my very serious problems."

"Right," Merlin said. Then, a bit more sober, "you can tell me, you know. I promise I won't make fun."

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it. Another joke had been on the tip of his tongue, ready to diffuse a too personal conversation as usual. But, _screw it_.

"My father… I feel like he's punishing me for everything that goes wrong with the company," Arthur admitted, realising as he spoke that he might be opening a dam that he couldn't close – but finding that he couldn't stop. "I'm head of my department, and yet no decision I make is good enough for him. All I am to him is a set of shortcomings. And they are many, he's never made that any kind of a secret."

Arthur paused, but Merlin said nothing. Arthur was glad, because he didn't think he'd have been able to keep talking otherwise. "God, even when I accepted the position at Camelot he basically told me that he never thought I could have got the job on my own merit," he continued. "But I took it, idiot that I am, believing that if I could only _show_ him, prove that I could do everything he said I couldn't do, that he'd respect me for it. But now... it's bad enough that he doesn't have faith in me, but when he uses his position in the company to belittle me in front of the employees that are supposed to look to me for guidance... what am I supposed to do, Merlin?"

Arthur stopped speaking abruptly, realising that he was rambling. That he'd told Merlin things he'd never told _anyone_.

"Have you actually talked to him about this, Arthur?" Merlin asked quietly.

Arthur laughed humourlessly. "Right. I could see how that conversation would go."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "But how would you like it to go?" His voice was soothing; the kind of voice that could make you spill all your secrets. It was dangerous.

Arthur forced out another short laugh. Seeking to cling on to anything he could use to take the heaviness out of the moment, he said, "I think you missed your call as a Samaritan, Merlin."

"I may or may not have dabbled in Nightline at uni," Merlin confessed, offering Arthur a small smile. "I mean it though, Arthur. Whatever stick Uther's got up his arse, he's making not only you but himself and the entire company look bad by behaving so unprofessionally. Someone should tell him that, and it sounds like you're the only one who's strong enough to do it."

"I take it back, the Samaritans would never let you say stuff like that," Arthur mumbled, just because he felt like he had to - but Merlin's words had stirred something in him. Because he was right. Arthur had been enduring Uther's jabs all his life, and he was still standing. He hadn't quit. His team was looking to _him_ to stand up to Uther for them, and he owed it to them to find the strength to do that. And somehow, Merlin had managed to make him see that with just a few words of encouragement. "You know, you're not as dumb as you look."

It was an easy way out, and it felt cowardly – but it was also Arthur Pendragon for _thank you_, and hehoped that Merlin understood that. The smile on the other man's face, along with the affectionate shoulder bump, told him that he did.

By the time they reached Morgana's flat, Arthur was feeling lighter, somehow, than when he'd left the office. Lighter, really, than he had in weeks. On impulse, Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm on the way up the stairs and squeezed it, just for a second, to convey his gratitude.

By the time he'd let go and Morgana opened the door, Merlin was still staring at Arthur with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Merlin, Arthur!" Morgana exclaimed happily, oblivious. "I'm so glad you're here, we can actually eat now. I am _starving_. You better not have dawdled needlessly on your way here, you know I can sense these things."

"Morgana," Arthur greeted, kissing her cheek, "only you can manage to be both polite and rude to your guests within the first five seconds of them entering your flat."

"Ah, but technically you were still in the hallway, dear brother," Morgana smirked as she reached past him to drag Merlin inside, hugging him lightly. "Good to see you, Merlin," she added, all genuine smiles now. Merlin still looked a little dazed, and Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. Morgana wasn't _that_ pretty.

"Come on, Merlin, dining room's this way," Arthur said, annoyed, reaching out to drag Merlin along with him down the corridor. He caught Morgana's eyes over Merlin's shoulder and she only raised her eyebrow, looking amused. If he had thought he could have gotten away with it, he'd have stuck his tongue out at her - he felt suddenly like he was a child again, and Merlin was like his uncle Agravaine's puppy Mordred, who had always preferred Morgana and had barked at Arthur whenever he came too close. Except this time Arthur wasn't letting Morgana have Merlin, no matter how childish that made him seem.

Everyone were already sitting down around Morgana's round dining table, laughing and talking amongst themselves, but they all stopped to greet Arthur and Merlin when they entered. Arthur recognised Leon, of course, and Morgana had invited Lancelot, too, who was sitting next to Gwen (which Arthur couldn't help but notice that he looked very happy about), and a few girls whom Arthur didn't recognise, probably from Morgana's work. Gwaine and Percival hadn't been able to make it, which under different circumstances might have made Arthur dread the evening a little bit more, but he had Merlin here this time - and it was a little scary to realise that really, that was all Arthur needed.

He sat down in one of the two vacant chairs, with Merlin on his left and Guinevere on his right. "Good evening Gwen," Arthur smiled politely, hoping that Merlin had been exaggerating about the whole hating him thing.

"Hello, Arthur," she smiled; so far, so good. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you. I'm sorry about the other day, really," he blurted out, "Merlin told me-"

"Arthur, really," Gwen put his hand on his, looking like she was fighting back a smile, "you must stop apologising to me, this is getting ridiculous. I promise you, my honour has not been offended." She winked. "I was well taken care of," she added, blushing prettily, shifting a little closer to Lancelot.

"Ah," Arthur said. Of course, Lancelot, ever the gentleman. He grinned. "I'm glad."

She squeezed his hand one more time before turning, touching Lancelot lightly on the arm and engaging him in a hushed conversation. Arthur smiled. Well, that was an interesting development.

Turning to his left, he found Merlin busy introducing himself to the girl on his other side - Isolde, Arthur thought her name was - and so he poured himself some water, filling up Merlin's glass while he was at it.

Suddenly, he felt something brush against his leg and jumped slightly; Morgana hadn't got a cat, had she? But then he felt it again, and let out a relieved breath. No stealth pet attacks then, it was just a leg. _Merlin's_ leg.

It could have been an accident, Merlin shifting in his seat to better speak to Isolde. But then the pressure against Arthur's leg intensified slightly as Merlin fitted the side of his shin neatly against Arthur's, and it was like that day on the bench in the park - except there really wasn't any way to justify it this time. This was just Merlin, pressing his leg against Arthur's because he wanted to.

Arthur took a sip of water, and smiled into his glass. He should probably pull his leg away; with anyone else, it would have seemed weird. But this was Merlin, and it was nice, knowing that Merlin was present with him even as he was speaking to someone else (a very pretty girl, too). So Arthur kept his leg where it was, letting the feeling ground him.

Once Morgana had returned from the kitchen with the food (lobster bisque and oysters, because it was _Morgana_) and the dishes had been passed around, Merlin turned towards Arthur, jostling their legs slightly with the movement, but if Merlin noticed, he didn't mention it. "Arthur, have you met Isolde?" he asked instead, pointing at the blonde on his other side.

"No, I haven't had the pleasure," Arthur smiled, reaching past Merlin to shake her hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm.

"You're Morgana's brother, right?" Isolde asked. She seemed to have a permanent smile on her face; easy, almost mischievous. Arthur liked her immediately.

"Half-brother," he said automatically. "And whatever stories she's told you about me, they are all lies. Or they really happened to herself." He smiled, flashing his teeth. In between them, Merlin shuffled awkwardly.

"Oh, so it was Morgana who got wasted off of your father's beer at the age of 15 and decided that pissing off the garden shed trying to see if she could hit the pool was the best idea ever, then?" Isolde grinned, eyes sparkling.

Arthur's mouth dropped open for a second, then he burst out laughing, clutching on to the back of Merlin's chair for support. Merlin himself scooted forward, clearly trying not to obscure Arthur's view of Isolde, and in the process managed to dislodge his leg from Arthur's. Arthur's laugh faded slightly, his leg suddenly feeling oddly cold.

"Alright, I have to take credit for that one," Arthur confessed, putting up his hands.

"At least tell me you hit bullseye, though," Isolde smirked.

"Didn't touch the pool for weeks," Arthur nodded. "Father might have taken a dip in it, though."

Isolde let out a very unladylike snort, which ironically just made her even more charming.

"Merlin tells me you play football," Isolde smiled, "you any good?"

"Why?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. "Were you planning on joining our team?" This was great, he thought - this girl was cute, and he hadn't flirted with anyone in ages. Even if it was just for fun, Arthur found himself relaxing by the minute. This was safe territory.

"Oh god no," Isolde shook her head emphatically. "I'm a martial arts kind of girl. I actually teach judo down at the youth centre."

"Wow, consider me impressed. And a little intimidated," he raised his glass in a mock salute. Ah, so that's how Morgana knew her. Arthur knew she did a lot of work with children's charities - he was hoping one day he could bring Camelot into it, too, and take on some of that work himself.

From there, the conversation flowed naturally on to the work she and Morgana were doing together, and Arthur shared some of his own ideas for ways he could see his company working with them in the future (one day, when it was actually _his_ company to direct).

A few times, Arthur tried bringing Merlin in to the conversation, but he would either be speaking across the table to Morgana, or just give non-committal answers before returning to his food. Arthur found it a little odd, but he liked talking to Isolde, being able to hear more about the work he so admired, and letting it inspire him; his brain was already working on overdrive drawing up strategies and financial plans for making sure that youth centre had enough funding for activities, lunch plans, renovations...

Before he knew it, dinner had ended (Arthur had hardly tasted the food he'd eaten), and chairs started scraping back as the formal part of the evening wrapped up and people began mingling, making their way into the living room. Merlin was the first to get out of his chair, practically jumping at the chance to help Morgana with the dishes (and again, Arthur most certainly _wasn't_ jealous; he ignored the way Merlin practically bounced out of the room and tried to focus his attention on Isolde).

Once the room was empty save for the two of them, Isolde paused in her description of the ideal sports facilities she had imagined for the children, complete with a fully functioning dojo and a climbing wall, and cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes slightly. Her smile turned questioning. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude..." she shook her head, "never mind, it's not my place."

"No, no, go ahead," Arthur shook his head, puzzled. "What did you want to say?"

She took a sip of water, and bit her lip before continuing, assessing him. "It's just, well, I'm really enjoying speaking to you, Arthur, but honestly? I think your boyfriend felt a little overlooked tonight."

Arthur's mouth dropped open, something like panic coiling in his stomach which he dismissed immediately. "My..." he trailed off. "My who?"

Isolde somehow managed to frown while still keeping that ever-present smile in place. "Your boyfriend? Merlin? The tall, good-looking skinny man sitting right here in between us? Morgana didn't tell me you suffered from short-term memory loss."

Arthur shook his head slowly. He thought he might look rather dumb right now, and figured shutting his mouth would probably be a good move. Any time now.

"Who told you that Merlin was my boyfriend?" he finally got out, hating the way his cheeks heated up on the last word.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry," Isolde said, and this time her smile really did dissolve, to be replaced by a look of embarrassment. "I didn't realise you weren't telling people. When Morgana told me, I just assumed-"

"_Morgana_." Arthur snarled. He should have known.

"Don't be too hard on her though, I mean it's pretty obvious that you two are together," Isolde shrugged.

"I-" Arthur began, but he could only stare at her - this pretty girl, who he thought he'd been _flirting_ with... he took a deep breath. "Me and Merlin aren't... _together_," he said slowly. "We're good friends, yes. He's great. I like him - as a friend - I like him as a friend. We're not... he's not my _boyfriend_," Arthur managed to stammer. Damn that word, he needed to learn how to say it without blushing (not that he was planning on using it a lot or anything).

Isolde raised an eyebrow, in such a perfect imitation of Morgana that Arthur wondered how much time they must actually have spent together. "Oh. Right. My mistake, then." But her smile was back, and Arthur thought it looked a little skeptical.

"If you'll excuse me, I've got a sister to strangle," Arthur pursed his lips, rising from the table with a curt nod. He was going to _kill_ Morgana.

He found her in the kitchen. Bent over laughing, as Merlin waved a tea towel around his head, doing something undoubtedly ridiculous.

"So Merlin is my boyfriend?" Arthur thundered without preamble, and both Merlin and Morgana started, Morgana straightening up as Merlin lowered the tea towel slowly. His eyes had gone very wide, but Morgana looked the picture of control, like always. "At least now I know you're not trying to shag him," Arthur added, bizarrely feeling like that was a minor victory in itself.

Morgana's hands found purchase on her hips - at the best of times an intimidating sight, but right now, Arthur felt like his outrage could probably hold its own against her pride. "Oh, I'm sorry," she started, her voice like ice, "was it supposed to be a secret, Arthur? Just because you don't trust your own sister enough to-"

"Whoa, wait," Arthur said, putting out his hands in alarm, eyes going wide. "You actually believe it's _true_? You weren't just having us on?" His eyes darted to Merlin's, which in turn were darting between Arthur and Morgana as though watching a tennis match.

Morgana frowned. "You're not honestly going to keep denying it, Arthur? Even now?" She looked almost… _hurt_. If this hadn't been such a bizarre situation, he might have felt the need to reassure her. But no. This was ridiculous.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Merlin cleared his throat, and both Pendragons turned to face him. He winced a little, and Arthur tried to relax his stance, realising that he and Morgana probably made a bit of an intimidating sight when they were both in a temper.

"Morgana, he's right," Merlin said, tilting his head a little. "We're not... we're just friends."

Morgana stared at him for a moment, then she turned her eyes on Arthur. "But I thought-" she shook her head, turning back to Merlin, "but Gwen said-"

"Gwen doesn't know what she's talking about," Merlin said quickly, his eyes widening fractionally as though in warning; if Arthur wasn't so in tune with his expressions he'd probably have missed the movement. "And it doesn't matter what she thinks anyway, she's wrong. You're both wrong." Merlin sounded so _sure_ about it, like the very idea of them together was completely impossible. It almost made Arthur feel offended, until he realised that he'd practically acted the same way (okay, worse) a moment ago. He settled for nodding emphatically when Morgana turned back to him, looking a little lost.

"Really not true. Not even a little bit." As Arthur said it, his mind flashed back to the way their legs were pressed together at dinner, but he dismissed the thought. "Even the idea is just ridiculous," he added, for good measure.

"Inconceivable," Merlin said, smiling wryly, but Arthur noted that it didn't reach his eyes.

Morgana looked between them for a second more. Then she sighed. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I just thought..." she sighed again, putting her hand on Arthur's arm in an uncharacteristically gentle manner. "And I'm sorry for thinking you would keep something like that from me, Arthur. I couldn't really believe that you would, but I figured you had your reasons." She smiled softly. "I should probably, um, set the record straight with a few people. Excuse me."

And she slipped from the kitchen, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone.

"Well," Merlin said, scratching his neck. "That was pretty much the definition of awkward, right there."

"All future awkwardness shall be measured against this moment," Arthur tried. "They'll write books about it. Songs, even." The joke fell flat. He winced.

"Yes, 'The Big Gay Love Conspiracy,'" Merlin nodded sagely. "It'll be a hit with the pre-schoolers."

A silence, which Arthur couldn't bring himself to fill with more empty words. Why did this feel so strange? By all accounts, this should be something they could laugh at, shouldn't it? Ha ha, Arthur's sister thought he was gay and had told a bunch of her friends. Ha ha, Arthur couldn't spend time with another guy without everyone immediately assuming they were sleeping together. Ha ha, such an intense and immediate connection couldn't possibly be anything but... love...

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, snapping up to Merlin's face. Merlin was staring at the floor, twisting the tea towel between his fingers. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Arthur swallowed audibly as he watched the way Merlin's long fingers flexed around the fabric, followed the line of his wrists and arms, trailing the thin, defined muscle under Merlin's too-pale skin until it disappeared under his t-shirt. His eyes moved up, to linger on Merlin's neck, the edge of his collarbone just visible. Merlin swallowed, and Arthur was drawn to his adam's apple, which bobbed up and down. Merlin's neck was really long.

Merlin had come from out of nowhere, barging into his life, and it had been like awakening from a long sleep, or emerging from water into the sun. Arthur's life before Merlin had been routine, a day-to-day existence in shades of grey. Merlin had brought the colours, colours which Arthur didn't even know he was capable of seeing in the bleak world he had come to believe he was destined for.

Morgana had clearly seen the change in Arthur since Merlin had entered his life. Was it so crazy, that she thought they were in love?

Arthur's eyes moved upwards, past Merlin's full lips, and his cheekbones, and his ears, Arthur swallowed again, and he felt the pulse in his throat quicken.

When he reached Merlin's eyes, he found Merlin looking right back at him. His blue eyes were darker than normal, and he was watching Arthur intently, not moving. Hardly breathing, it seemed to Arthur, who could only hear his own breath in the small room.

Merlin opened his mouth, and drew in a shaky breath. "Arthur, I-"

The kitchen door banged open, and both Merlin and Arthur jumped. "Oh, there you two are!" Isolde called, pulling her arm through Arthur's, already dragging him backwards. "Morgana cleared everything up! Awkward, am I right? But at least now you don't have to hide out in here all night pretending to be gay for each other, come on!"

And with a final, bewildered look at Merlin, Arthur found himself being dragged out of the kitchen, his mind in shambles. Merlin followed a few minutes later, and it wasn't long before they found themselves separated, Merlin talking to Lance and Gwen while Morgana, Isolde and their other friend Sefa drew Arthur into their conversation about future youth centers they'd like to see open up around the city.

Arthur had never been less interested in talking about charity work. His eyes kept darting towards where Merlin was standing, and a few times he found Merlin looking back, but the other man would look away as soon as he saw Arthur looking.

Not long after, Merlin quietly announced that he'd been heading home. Arthur watched from across the room as Guinevere broke away from Lancelot too, speaking to Merlin in hushed voices for a moment (Arthur heard Merlin's murmured "I'm _fine_, Gwen, go back to the pretty boy," and was torn between chuckling and scowling), before Merlin slipped out of the room.

Arthur tried to slip out after him, feeling like he should at least say _something_ following their bizarre... whatever that had been, before, but Isolde seemed intent on proving to him that they could still be friends (_friends_, she clarified rather emphatically, pointing out the engagement ring on her finger which Arthur had completely failed to notice before - not that he really paid her much attention now, his mind still stuck in the kitchen, playing out that moment over and over again, desperately trying to get his thoughts in some kind of semblance of order about it all), and practically held him in a vice grip.

A small part of Arthur was relieved. He needed to think - he felt as if his life was unraveling in front of his eyes, and it was all Morgana's fault. Morgana and her assumptions - assumptions that she had no right to make.

He tried to lose himself in the conversation, but his mind kept flashing back to Merlin; small moments, Arthur's hand on his back, Merlin's leg against his own, Merlin's smile, how Arthur had felt when he thought Merlin had left him. _Left him_.

But they were friends. Morgana had put thoughts in his mind, but Arthur didn't like men. He liked women. He was attracted to women - in an easy, familiar kind of way. Other men were... well, it was nothing Arthur had ever let himself think too much about. No; one day he'd find himself a nice girl, maybe someone like Guinevere or even Isolde (if only to spite his father, just a little bit), and he would marry her. Stupid skinny men with stupid big ears and stupid blue eyes weren't going to stand in the way of the life Uther - no, Arthur - had always imagined for himself.

He wanted to text Merlin. He wanted to make sure they were on the same page - he wanted to make sure they were still friends in the morning. But Arthur honestly didn't know what to say.

He was relieved, therefore, when late that night after he'd gone back to his flat (having agonised about what to say to Merlin for hours), his phone buzzed. But Merlin's text only said:

_We're okay, right?_

Arthur ran his hand over his face, trying to will the right words into his head. He had to answer, of course, and soon. Waiting, or not answering at all would indicate that no, they were not - and the last thing Arthur wanted was for Merlin to think that

_Of course. Don't know what Morgana's been smoking, sorry if she made you feel uncomfortable. x A_

He stared at what he'd written for a few moments before hitting 'Send.' No regrets, not that there was any reason to feel any. After a moment, the phone buzzed in his hand.

_She didn't._

But... oh. Arthur's heart fluttered in his chest, a strange feeling settling over him. That wasn't the answer he had been expecting - but he felt strangely elated, staring at the screen, for a moment overcome with something he couldn't quite explain. But before he could even open the reply window, another text came through.

_I mean, it was all just a misunderstanding, right?_

Arthur's heart sank as he read the words – but that didn't make sense at all, he reminded himself. This was what he'd been hoping that Merlin would say, wasn't it? His mind flashed back to that moment in Morgana's kitchen, and he groaned, feeling a headache coming on. Arthur might not be the best with feelings, and acknowledging his own, but there was something here that he was missing. Something inside of him that didn't want it to be a misunderstanding at all. And he wasn't sure what to do with that knowledge, so he did the only thing he knew how to do: maintain the status quo.

_Right_. _See you tomorrow. x A_

**ooo**

**Thursday, March 11**

If Merlin felt any awkwardness about what had happened the day before, he didn't show it as Arthur met him outside of Camelot Corp. They were meant to go for lunch, seeing as Merlin was already in the neighbourhood (or so he said – Arthur couldn't imagine what could possibly be attractive for an out-of-work artist in an area that mainly held large corporate office buildings. But he thought it best not to mention that), but after being greeted with Merlin's bright smile, Arthur suddenly had another idea.

"Come with me," he grinned, dragging Merlin back inside the building, ignoring Merlin's brief look of confusion.

"No, please," Merlin laughed as Arthur dragged him through the lobby, "I surrender. Parlay! Take me to your leader."

"Ah, but I _am_ the leader, Merlin," Arthur smirked as he hit the lift button, ignoring the scandalised look of the receptionist.

"Oh no, what are you going to do to me?"

Arthur caught Merlin's eye, and swallowed, mind going blank for a moment. Suddenly their game didn't seem quite as funny.

Luckily the _ding_! of the lift prevented any further awkwardness, and they hurried inside – where they were brought face to face with a startled Lancelot.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed, looking from Arthur to Merlin. "Er... hello."

Arthur grimaced; Lancelot had been at the dinner party last night. He'd probably had to have his _assumptions_ corrected, too.

"Lance," Merlin smiled easily. "I trust that Gwen got home safely last night?"

Lancelot blushed to the tips of his ears and didn't say anything else until the lift stopped and he rushed out with a curt nod at them both.

"Lance and Gwen," Arthur remarked as the lift closed again and they were blessedly alone.

"Yeah," Merlin said. Arthur darted a look towards Merlin; he was smiling to himself. Arthur had wondered, briefly, if Merlin and Gwen had ever... but no, the way Merlin spoke about her, on the rare occasions that he did, was almost like the way Arthur might speak about Morgana if the Pendragons knew how to be affectionate with one another. And the way Merlin was smiling now seemed to seal the deal.

"Lance is a good guy," Arthur said. Merlin looked round, and nodded.

"And Gwen is a good girl. They're perfect for each other."

Arthur snorted. "He's probably a lot better for her than I could ever have been."

Merlin was silent for a moment; the lift reached their stop and Arthur stepped out, Merlin trailing behind him. He was surprised when Merlin laid a hand on his back briefly. "I reckon you'd be a pretty good catch though," he heard Merlin say quietly. Arthur tried to ignore the way that made his stomach flop - he couldn't deny that it had nothing to do with Gwen, though.

"Well, here we are," Arthur said, clearing his throat as he opened the door to his office. Merlin stepped inside, whistling.

"You really are a suit with a face, aren't you?" Merlin laughed. He went over to examine the framed diplomas hanging on Arthur's wall. "This is priceless. I feel like I'm in a film."

"James Bond?" Arthur asked hopefully.

"Two Weeks' Notice," Merlin corrected. "And you're obviously Sandra Bullock."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please, you look nothing like Ryan Reynolds."

Merlin's eyes snapped to his. Arthur inwardly cursed himself, because really? He needed to check his internal filter. If things weren't awkward before...

Luckily Merlin seemed to take pity on him. "So why did you bring me here, oh Miss Congeniality?"

"Ha ha. I was _going _to help you do one of the things on your list, but if you're gonna be like that-"

"Ooh!" Merlin suddenly exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "Is it the chair thing? Oh man, I never thought I'd actually get to do that one!"

Merlin's excitement was infectious, the awkwardness of the moment before forgotten. "Well, knock yourself out," Arthur grinned, gesturing to his (comfortable, and probably _very_ expensive) desk chair, which stood in front of the entire wall of windows which overlooked the Thames.

Merlin practically ran over to the chair, throwing himself down into it and spinning away to face the window. This particular point had made no sense to Arthur until Merlin had explained it, and since then it'd been hovering in the back of his mind. He still thought it was completely ridiculous, but this was Merlin's list.

The point had only been a sentence. And really, Arthur should have known.

"_I've been expecting you,_" Merlin said, voice deep, as he spun around slowly and fixed Arthur with a calculating look. The effect was rather striking, Arthur thought, but it was ruined a moment later by Merlin's face breaking into a wide, excited grin. "That was awesome! Let's do it again!" And he spun back, repeating the whole process with different cadences, expressions, and even positions on the chair.

Arthur found himself having been _expected_ about a dozen times before Merlin seemed to tire of the game. Giving the chair one final, satisfied pat, he raised himself up. And he looked so happy, such a simple thing giving him so much pleasure, Arthur felt something surge within his stomach and then settle.

Having Merlin in his life was making him happy, in a way that had nothing to do with the things they did to tick off points on Merlin's list. And that thought didn't scare him at all, because it was _Merlin_. It wasn't a revelation that particularly surprised him, because it had been there all along.

"Come on," he said, shaking his head and putting his arm around Merlin's shoulder. "Let's go to lunch, you lunatic."

"But you like me anyway," Merlin quipped, leaning slightly into him.

Arthur just laughed, leading him down the corridor and ignoring his secretary's frown as they passed her desk.

Who cared what Morgana or anyone else thought, anyway? Merlin didn't seem to, so why should he?

_Day 40:  
Decide not to care what people think._

**ooo**

**Monday, March 22**

And so March continued much as February had, with Merlin and Arthur embarking on daily adventures – some were small, strange things that Arthur would never have considered noteworthy if not for Merlin's obvious joy at getting the chance to do them (eating chalk was one particularly bizarre experience which Arthur was not planning to repeat any time soon), but sometimes he found himself far more challenged.

Today was one such day.

"No way," Arthur said, crossing his arms, knowing that he looked like a petulant child but choosing not to care.

"But Arthur, you promised," Merlin said, pouting – and that just wasn't fair.

"I did no such thing," Arthur grumbled, even as he felt his stance relax and his resolve begin to waver. Damn Merlin.

The corner of Merlin's lip twitched, and Arthur knew he sensed victory. "I _will_ get you the coffee I promised you. _After_ we do this."

"You know I don't actually have to do this, right? It's not _my _list."

"Sure. But I also know that you're not going to let me embarrass myself alone, so stop complaining. It's about to start."

And this was how Arthur Pendragon, Director of Communications for the Pendragon Corporation, found himself dancing to "YMCA" as part of a flash mob event at Victoria Station, trying to ignore the blinding lights of mobile phone cameras as he awkwardly waved his arms around, laughing as Merlin stumbled into him and they both began to fall over, only for Merlin to steady them both with warm hands on Arthur's waist. For a moment Arthur found himself lost to the world, the crowd around them seeming to disappear as he stared into Merlin's eyes, the sheer joy of the moment overwhelming him.

Then Merlin moved his hands away and pushed Arthur around to face the front, and they did their best to catch up with the rhythm, their arms in the air, probably looking like complete idiots.

It was the most fun Arthur had ever had.

"Thank you," he said later, after they'd sat down in a nearby cafe and Arthur had got his promised coffee. "I mean, for today." Yet another thing Arthur never would have done without Merlin there to push him.

It was strange, considering how short of an amount of time they'd really known each other, that Arthur already struggled to remember what he'd done with his free time without Merlin. His memories all seemed to be dulled, in black and white whereas everything with Merlin stood out in stark colours; red and blue and sunlight, even in the dead of winter.

Merlin grinned, ducking his head and lifting his mug of hot chocolate up to hide his blush. Arthur kicked him under the table, and Merlin kicked back, and soon they were making the table shake, laughing into their drinks and pretending to ignore each other.

Everything was back to normal, and Arthur was glad. For the first time in his life, there was someone with whom he didn't have to check his emotions, or measure his responses. With Merlin, from the very beginning, all he'd had to be was _Arthur, _and Merlin had accepted him. Pushed him, yes. But never pushing him away.

* * *

_**A/N: **__With this chapter, I have decided to put The Bucket List on hold for the time being. The reason it was so long in coming out is because I have found myself struggling with pacing and tone more than usual, and I need to give this story a good long look before barreling forwards. It's very important that nothing about Merlin and Arthur's developing relationship feels inorganic, and that I incorporate the little daily tasks in the right way._

_I have also found myself drawn to another project, which is demanding all of my attention: Draco Dormiens, a Merlin AU merging the Merlin characters with the Harry Potter universe. If you're at all interested in reading along, then that would be great! Otherwise, keep this story bookmarked to make sure you're notified when I return to it. Thanks for reading, The Bucket List is one of my favourite stories to work on and I want to do it justice!_

_-TheAvalonian_


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